


Light

by Nilmiel



Series: Balancing on One Wounded Wing [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-19 22:25:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3626541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nilmiel/pseuds/Nilmiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavellan was on a brief reprieve back at Skyhold and was gratefully reclining on the bed in her chambers. It was blessedly quiet here. Not that she didn’t enjoy Varric’s stories, or Sera’s antics, or Cullen’s terrible luck in all games they played, but in the moments she was surrounded, the absence of one man’s voice was the loudest.</p><p>On indefinite hiatus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

It was cold. The mountain air was crisp and heavy with frost that bit at the windowpanes and found its way to the handrails leading to her chamber. The normal chill of the mountain wind was more profound than usual, and from her view she could see the fair off peaks laden heavy with snow. It was autumn now.

They had saved the world. It would have felt like more of an accomplishment if the world were not always on the brink of destruction from some apocalypse or another; if it wouldn’t be in peril in just a few more weeks, or hadn’t been saved by others many times before. Either way, they had to continue their quest to undo the turmoil and reinstate safety and order.

Ferelden and Orlais both looked to the Inquisition for their help. Josephine said some of the noble houses were truly grateful, although most of them just politely blamed them for all the trouble they’d been through. She was always receiving some visitor or another, delegating money for compensation or trying to squeeze money from the people they’d helped. Cullen had the troops across every corner of Thedas either working on repairs or protecting the workers who labored. Lavellan herself was constantly on the move from city to city, brokering peace between Templars and newly free mages. She’d already had to deal with several smaller skirmishes when one side or the other decided that their opposites couldn’t be trusted and decided to take manners into their own hands, and it was only a matter a time before something worse happened. She contemplated taking Cullen with her on her next round of visits; perhaps a free mage and templar standing together would do some good for morale.

It had only been a few weeks since Corypheus fell, and if anything, the Inquisition was working harder than before. And she was tired.

Lavellan was on a brief reprieve back at Skyhold and was gratefully reclining on the bed in her chambers. It was blessedly quiet here. Not that she didn’t enjoy Varric’s stories, or Sera’s antics, or Cullen’s terrible luck in all games they played, but in the moments she was surrounded, the absence of one man’s voice was the loudest. In the silence, at least everyone was gone and she was less alone.

Leliana hadn’t given up looking for him, but Levallen doubted they would hear any word. If her birds couldn’t bring word of him in the weeks since he disappeared, Lavellan had resolved herself to never seeing him again. Solas was gone. The deep longing and regret in her chest had knotted into a scar of gentle anger, resentment, and sadness. She still felt the soft touch of his fingertips and the shiver of magic cross her skin time to time, especially when she looked in the mirror and saw her face bare. Sometimes the knot in her chest tugged at her when she saw Dorian flush when Iron Bull laughed, and sometimes when she dreamed she thought she saw him in the corner of her eye. This will pass, she told the silence. This will pass. It has to.

“There are two of you today.”

Lavellan sat up, startled from her thoughts, to find Cole sitting at the foot of her bed. The spirit had the same expression on his young face as he always did. Very matter-of-fact, but delighted and sad at the same time.

“Cole,” She said, only slightly surprised. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in the tavern?”

“I came to help,” he said. “You’re hurting. Your hurting. It’s been louder lately and I couldn’t figure out why. The sorrow still sorrows and hungers for pride just as it always has, but its been getting louder. I want to help,” he added. “You are my friend, and I like talking to you and being around you, so bright, like sunlight reflecting on the river. But the water is cold and you just wish it could be warmer like the furs in your tent.”

Lavellan smiled. She enjoyed Cole’s company most of those around her. He didn’t make sense, but all he knew was kindness and comfort. He knew and understood and spoke to make her laugh. “Its all right, Cole. I’m okay. I just need to rest.”

“But there’s a light buried deep inside the darkness. You don’t know it yet, but it knows you. You surround it, protect it; warm and fierce and kind. Blood sings lullabies and it flutters like a bird in a cage, barely anything but a ruffle of feathers. Your hurting is louder, and it’s because the bird is going to sing. There are two of you now, and the hurt hurts twice as much. I want to help.”

“You aren’t making any sense. I’m the only me, Cole. There’s only me, and yes I hurt but-” She stuttered. “I want to work through it on my own. You are helpful Cole. Just sitting with me is helping.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Cole shuffled on the bed. “It’s dark, but so warm, and the smell of the breath against yours is comfort, cooling, caressing. The weight on your chest pulls you like the moon pulls the waves, forward and back, forward and back, and the inside of you aches with love. Your mouth tastes like he does and its dizzier, dizzying. You want it back. You go there whenever you can but you can’t be there all the time because there are too many stitches to mend and you have to be that bridge. You can’t go back. You can’t go back, but it came with you.”

Lavellan’s scar tugged in her chest. A knot formed in her throat. “What are you trying to tell me,” She said. Not a question, just an affirmation. A sinking feeling began in her stomach and threatened to drag her back down into the mattress. She knew then, exactly what the eclectic spirit meant and the scar in her heart split open, red and fresh as when he walked away, leaving her standing barefaced and alone in the grotto.

Cole paused. “No, that didn’t work. Can I try again? I’ll get it right-”

“No.” She said, a bit harsher than she meant to. “Don’t. You got it right it, Cole.” She placed a tentative hand on her belly. Of course she hadn’t noticed. They had been too busy, there had been no time to stop and think about something other than the world for even a second. “I’m pregnant, aren’t I?” She asked softly.

Cole’s face lit up in delight. “It’s so wonderful!” He gasped. “It’s brand new, tiny, so small and fragile but someday it will be like you, bright and shining and proud. New lives to live and loves to have, hurts to heal and songs to sing. You’re afraid. You’re drowning in the cold river but you don’t have to. You can swim to the shore and lay on the sun soaked rocks and you will be warm again. He will hear you, he wants to hear you, he’s always listening. The wolf prowls in the corners of your dreams, but he’s not hunting you. He lays down beside you while you sleep and you are safe and he is sad.”

It was all too much. Lavellan felt her eyes well up with tears and her back shook. Cole reached out and put his hand on her head and she cried. “It’s okay,” He promised in his soft voice. But she couldn’t breath, her chest was heaving and air was harder and harder to get.

“Why?” Was all she managed to say. Why would he leave? How could he leave? The scar in her chest was fresh and bleeding and she was overwhelmed by the smell of him, the press of his chest, the soft touch of his lips and the sad brightness in his eyes. She breathed in his breath and it caught in her throat like a stone. She lay with her head in Cole’s lap like a child. “It’s okay,” He cooed. “You aren’t alone. You’re twice as bright. Two stars in the sky for the lone wolf to howl to.”

 

In her dream she stands barefoot in the snow. The wind smells like pine trees and a far away fireplace. Distant voices lift into the sun filled sky, and the wind catches her warm skin to make her swell. She closes her eyes. One step, then another, and she is swaying, dancing, leaving tiny footprints in the snow. She spins around and feels the blood rush to her head, making her dizzier and dizzier. She knows gravity must be working but it doesn’t quite make sense as she tumbles backwards or forwards or some direction towards the snow. She laughs, ready to be caught in the cold pillowy grip of the ground, but she crashes into something solid and warm arms wrap around her and gather her up against his chest. She is overcome by his warmth, the smell of him, his rough tunic and broad chest. She does not open her eyes. She can’t. It wouldn’t be real if she did.

The world is still spinning but in a different way, a way that makes her breath catch and her legs ache and threatens to overwhelm her with sighs and tears. She reaches up, wanting to trace his jawline with her fingertips, touch the tip of his ears, and cradle his head down against her. Her touch meets skin, hot and wet. He’s crying and as she pulls him closer he presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Do you know?” She asks him.

He doesn’t answer but she feels him shaking and tastes the saltiness of his tears as she holds him. “I’m sorry,” He manages, but then falls silent.

She opens her eyes and he’s gone and if not for the tears that are not her own she would have taken it as the Fade playing tricks on her. She blinks, once, twice, and her legs betray her and she finds herself sitting in the snow. She draws in a shaky breath, and begins to sing softly to the light inside her.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone in the wilderness, Solas reflects on his most recent revelation.

Solas woke from his dream in a panic. His chest was heaving and his throat was raw. He quickly reached up to his face, brushing away the unconscious tears that had plagued him. Alone in the night with only the cackle of the wards he had set up he stood angrily as the sleep left his body.

            _Fenedhis._

How could he have been so selfish? Solas began to pace in the silence, his anger and guilt rose each step he took. Already because of him she was hurt, and now _this?_ He should never have even gone to he her, he thought. Should not have kissed her. Shouldn’t even have been with her as long as he had. He shouldn’t have let this woman into his heart in a way he didn’t know was possible. It was worse that he let her catch even a glimpse of him.

            His steps sizzled with electricity and a grumble in his chest grew into a tormented roar. He slammed his fist into a tree. His new power crackled around his fist and a sliver of smoke rose from between his bloodied knuckles. Solas took the pain and treasured it; a welcome distraction from the howling guilt, anger, and sadness that had balled into his chest.

            He should never have gone into her tent.

            Even as he awoke from his dream of a golden halla in Dirthavaren he had been blind to the sensation of her. If only he had more self control, if only he hadn’t given into to her soft kisses and warm arms. Unconsciously Solas shuddered, feeling a betraying arousal in the pit of his stomach. He closed his eyes and ground his fist against the tree but the pain would not drive away the sudden barrage of the feeling of her against him, around him. Her shuddering breaths and soft cries. The way she cradled his head against her chest and the feel of her hands on his back. Her breath, hot and wanting against his ear. The way he had felt guiltless for only a moment. He clenched his jaw.

            He should not have let it happen again.

            He should have stopped the lingering glances between them as they trudged back to Skyhold through the snowy mountains. He should have stopped her from coming into his tent and kissing him again. He should never have held her tightly and whispered his love to her. He should have had the will to say no the night she invited him to her chambers before they had set off to the Arbor Wilds.

            It was his fault she was broken, and now-

            Solas drew his fist from the tree and slowly fell to his knees. Real tears formed in the corner of his eyes. He barred his teeth and swore loudly, catching the ground with his hands as he fell forward. He cursed himself between jagged breaths. He damned all of them. All the elves of this era who were lost to what they had, all the gods in their pantheon for their selfish ruin. And he cursed himself again and again. The magical barriers he had put in place shattered around him. His back shook with angry sobs and he curled in on himself.

            “I never deserved to be close to her. It hurts; it aches on top of aches thousands of years old. She’s alone now when I’m the one who should be alone. It was selfish of me. It’s all because of me. I don’t deserve love or kindness. I will pay when this is over. Fear, gripping, aching, clawing up my throat because I don’t really want to pay. I just want to be with her, hold her, hold our child-”

            The sound of his own thoughts echoing across the clearing towards him snapped Solas from his misery. Cole was kneeling before him and had placed a hand gently on his head. “I asked you to forget.” He said in a dead voice.

            Cole was quiet for a moment, carefully considering the words he wanted to say.

            “I did forget.” Said the spirit. “I forgot you, and the way of smell of ink and paint and let me fly free. I forgot the kind words you said to me. I forgot the pain in your heart you wouldn’t let me see. I forgot how I talked to you and how you helped me.”

            The spirit paused, tilting his head to the side. “But I didn’t want to forget you. You made me brighter. Helped me be more. Helped me to forgive. Why would I want to forget you when you were my friend?” Cole shook his head. “But you made me. There was a new hurt in everyone’s heart when we returned to Skyhold and I didn’t know why. Varric and Dorian were angry. The Iron Bull growled. Cassandra liked hitting the training dummies more than usual. She wouldn’t even read to me. I couldn’t figure out why. The inquisitor was loud. Howling, biting, betrayal and desire. I couldn’t help her. I tried, I tried everything. I brought her the flowers that smelled like home, I sang to her while she slept just like her mother did. I told her it wasn’t her fault. It didn’t work, nothing worked! It was hard to be there because the pain was so much and I couldn’t help. I couldn’t do anything.”

            Cole’s voice was on the edge of breaking. “I couldn’t help. It was your fault and I couldn’t help. You left us. You left me forgotten and useless. I feel her cry in and again and the pulling ache in her heart. She couldn’t stand, couldn’t see and I couldn’t even take her hand. She wanted to die.” He said furiously. “But I could _never_ kill her. I thought I was broken. I thought it was my fault. But it wasn’t. It was you.

“It was killing me. I hoped it would go away on its own as it sometimes does for people but it didn’t. It got louder and louder and her chest is torn in two. Her pain touched yours. And then I remembered. I remembered you left her face bare. I remembered you left two alone.” Cole’s hand on his head was shaking in anger.

            Solas was trembling. Cole had never spoken to him so harshly. Every word from his lips was true. He had hurt them all.

“In the dark you gave yourself to her, afraid to do it in the light in case she saw your real face. I remembered and then she wouldn’t let me help. She thinks she deserves the pain she is feeling and it’s because of you!” The young man roared.

Solas didn’t move. Cole was breathing heavily now; his usually calm manner was shattered. Solas felt like the Templar must have, trembling before a righteous spirit and about to face justice for what he had done. He lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Cole.” He said softly. “I never intended to cause you suffering. I wanted you to be free of me.”

Cole took Solas’ head into his hands and raised him to look him in the eyes. “I thought I was going to kill you when I got here.”

Solas said nothing.

“You hurt people. You hurt people I love.” Cole sighed. “But I love you too. And it’s like being torn into a thousand pieces.”

Solas quickly tried to gather his scattered thoughts, lock them away and he saw the pained look on Cole’s face as he did. “You won’t let me help you either.” The spirit declared. “I know how to help you. Why won’t you let me help?!” He wailed.

“I’m so sorry, Cole.” Solas whispered as he gently took the spirits hands from his face and held them in his own. His anger was fading now, replaced by bitter regret. “You cannot fix it.”

“I can fix it!” Cole cried angrily, yanking his hands back way. “She loves you. You hurt her and she loves you. You made her want to die and she loves you. And you love her. I saw it. I saw it when I came here and even though you are hiding it now I know enough to understand it’s still there. Being apart from her is destroying you. You think you are righteous, that you are saving everyone from yourself and what you must do, but you’re wrong. You’re a coward. You are only protecting yourself.”

Cole stood now, towering over the once proud man who was kneeling in the dirt. He took a deep breath. “I forgive you, Solas.” He intoned.

His words cut Solas deep. “No, Cole, don’t-” He begged. “I shouldn’t be forgiven. I should pay the price. I don’t deserve your forgiveness or her love. I will atone once this is over but I have no illusions of the harm I’ve done.”

“I’m not forgiving you for your sake.” Cole responded in a deadpan. “It’s for me. I cannot help people if I am twisted and hurting. You taught me that.” He paused thoughtfully. “I don’t understand why you are afraid to be happy. Why you don’t want to heal the hurt and live and forgive like you taught me. But you should know this: If you continue to hurt and punish yourself, you will never know your daughter’s name.”

            And in an instant Solas was alone again.

            He gazed into his hands, covered in dirt and blood, swollen and pained. _A daughter._ He laughed in spite of himself. What could he possibly have done to deserve this? The chuckle caught in his throat and he coughed. A child, an elvhen child, his child. She would be bright and shining like her mother, quick with words and magic. She would grow up unafraid, unchallenged. She would be free, she would know her legacy and the history-

            At once the spark of happiness in his chest fluttered and died. _What would she know of her father?_ The thought pressed hard in the back of his mind. _He was a coward._ Said the cruel voice in his mind. _He was cruel. He left her, didn’t care about her. He didn’t deserve her. Forsake him and his people, they don’t care about you. He doesn’t even know your name._

“No,” He snarled, the wolf in him gaining hold. “It’s not true.”

_You cast her mother aside as if she were nothing._

“I didn’t. I had to protect her.”

_From what? From you? From your cruelty, your indifference? As if the life of a single breathing woman could be worth more than the guilt you carry on your shoulders. You pretended to love her for your own selfishness. You always knew you would leave her broken._

Solas growled and sealed his eyes. “Leave me!” He roared.

“How can I leave when I’m a part of you?”

The sound hit his ears and he twitched. A real voice. Not only his head, there was someone standing in front of him. He opened his eyes to glare at the intruder, but came face to face with a shadowy version of himself. He narrowed his eyes. “You are a pride demon. Of course I managed to draw your attention. Leave me be, fly back to the Fade.”

The thing laughed, its voice identical to his own, but dripping with hatred. “Says the man who calls himself _Pride_. You think very highly of yourself. Oh yes, far more than any other pathetic creature that walks this earth. Even Mythal was beneath you, just a power for you to claw at for your own glory. You think yourself above Compassion, and would even hurt him so long as you maintained your self-image.

“You can’t banish me, elf. You are me. You embody me. Your existence gives me strength, pulls me here, makes me real. You have no true companion besides me.” It chuckled, and held its hand out to him. “Now, come. You have promises to fulfill. Promises you made to yourself. Forget the girl. She’s nothing compared to you. Forget the woman. You were too proud to even tell her the truth so she could rest easy. Admit it. You wanted to maintain your mystery and allure rather than give her solace. You delight in the knowledge that she is broken because of you.”

“You words are empty,” Solas spoke through gritted teeth. He felt his fingernails grind into the dirt beneath him and a wolfish growl thrummed in his chest. He could feel the beast intimately near. He felt the heat in his breath and the rough pain in his back as if her were tensed to lunge. To tear the throat from the man who stood before him and drink down his blood.

“Empty?” Pride said mockingly. “Did you even think about what lovers she had before you cursed her life? She came to you whole, in tact. You take pride in the fact that everything you touch withers. She could have had a thousand lovers, and it wouldn’t have mattered, only you could break her the way you did. It was beautiful. You are an _artist_.” Its hand was still extended to him. “Come. Forget these trivial children who call themselves “elvhen”. You were made to rule over them. You’ve crushed the opposition, no one left in this realm could oppose you. Take what is owed to you by these pathetic mortals!”

A bolt of anger ripped through Solas like lightning. “You cannot cow me. You chose the wrong man to try to cling to and preserve your hold on this world. Even through my mistakes I know who I am, what I am. And I. Am. Not. You.”

His words only seemed to encourage the demon before him. “You are perfect.” It sighed. “Don’t worry, my prideful elfling. Once we control this realm, we can have your woman brought to you. You can own her as you deserve, and think of what you could do with the child-”

Everything snapped. He was a wolf, huge and black, with red eyes and dripping, deadly fangs. The tension in him uncoiled and he leapt at the man with his face, driving great claws into its chest and sinking his jaws into its neck. The demon toppled beneath him and he tore at it again and again, rending limb from limb and discarding mouthfuls of false flesh. Even as it died and its essence withdrew to the Fade, he clawed and snarled visciously at the ground where it had stood, trying desperately to destroy any trace of it left in the earth.

After what seemed like hours, but must only have been minutes, his rage quelled and he was left a man, pawing brokenly at the earth. “You are wrong,” He repeated again and again.

_Wrong._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah this was meant to be a oneshot, but feelings in my head happened so i decided to expand it.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out the Inquisition really is her family.

“Oh, but just think of it, the _scandal_ of it all! Inquisitor Lavellan, savior of Thedas and champion of peace, bridge between peoples, _carrying an illegitimate child!_ ”

“Don’t worry Josie,” Came Leliana’s smooth voice. “Nothing will go wrong. We’ll maintain that the child is one of the servants’, who the Inquisitor _valiantly_ adopted after the parents untimely demise.”

Lavellan swallowed a chuckle. Leliana was seated in one of the grand chairs in her chambers, smirking to herself as Josephine sat before the Inquisitor on her bed, rubbing her swollen feet. Cassandra and Sera were there as well, and Dorian had suggested he was going to stop by later with flowers. As soon as they had found out, about Lavellan’s situation, Josephine had been swaying between overjoyed doting godmother to fretting, over-worrying matriarch. Leliana was doing the best she could to keep the situation under wraps and was doing a good job, and delighting immensely at Josephine’s anxiety.

“We could just tell everyone it was an immaculate conception.” Lavellan suggested through a smile. Josephine flicked her toes and gave her an annoyed look. “I wish you would take this seriously.” She scowled half-heartedly.

“No, I’m serious!” Lavellan laughed. “The Herald of Andraste could never have been tempted by such… _mortal_ desires. So Andraste and the Maker blessed her to bring forth a child of purity to exemplify the new faith!”

Leliana and Sera let out a bubbly laugh (and several expletives in Sera’s case). Cassandra scowled from where she sat in the corner, reading over her book again. “Ugh. As if I need one more thing to worry about once they’ve initiated me as Divine. More heresy! The clerics will have my neck within two hours of the coronation.”

“No, but it’s all good innit? Her gracious ladybits, bringing into the world another small elfy brat to keep the elfy-ness in the world going. Rebuild the Empire!” She shouted. “No but seriously, Velly, if you go trying to drown the little whelp with all that ‘oooooh, mystical shiny elfy’ shite, I’m gonna snatch the kid from you and run fill its head with all the right kinds of nonsense. She’ll be right good at throwing pies, she will.”

Sera leapt to her feet and bounced over to the bed and put her hands on Lavellan’s stomach, jostling her and forcing her to unintentionally kick Josephine’s elbows. “Sera!” The ambassador scolded. “Can you please act as if you aren’t a twelve-year-old raised without any semblance of manners?”

Sera ignored her and began to tickle Lavellan’s belly. “Don’t you worry, little elfy-bits, I’ll make sure you learn proper words that mean something. Like shite, bollocks, frick and fuck and Andraste’s flaming tits!” She laughed to herself maniacally. “None o’ them elfy-nonsense pbbbbbthhhhhhh-pbbthhh blah-blah elfy blah.”

“Sera!” Lavellan scolded softly, but she was giggling. Josephine had stopped her ministrations momentarily and was staring open mouthed at the other elf, but she quickly regained her composure and muttered something about mustard stains and the fall of common decency.

Lavellan sighed and leaned her head back into the pillows. “Thank you all,” She muttered. She hadn’t felt this light hearted and free in a long time. She had expected them all to scold her, tell her to get rid of the child, but they were all more supportive than even her clan would have been back home. Josephine made the point of spending time with her each day, just listening to her talk, and talking to her to fill the empty hours. Cassandra would read to her when she was feeling particularly sick, and Lavellan loved the way she asked questions about how she felt, what kind of love this was, and expressed desire to hold her daughter once she was born. Dorian would come talk to her about new spells he had developing, how she should keep in practice, and what amazing tailors he knew who could produce outfits for infants that would have everyone turning their heads. Blackwall had turned a bright red when Lavellan announced her decision to keep the child to her inner circle, and had spent quite a bit of time away from her and avoiding her questions, but Lavellan suspected he was busy in the barn carving a cradle for her.   Even Vivienne, who Lavellan had first assumed would use this knowledge only to advance her own position, had been unusually kind to her. When she confronted the enchanter like this, Vivienne looked shocked and appalled. “Of course I wouldn’t do that to you, darling.” She purred. “A child is a sacred blessing, and even I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge that, no matter how widely our opinions differ.” Leliana and Josephine had promised to keep tabs on her, just in case.

Everyone was in agreement that she should not leave Skyhold, both for her reputation and her health. Lavellan had protested at first, but even Iron Bull had gone out of his way to tell her not to do anything reckless.

“As far as I know, elves don’t just get fat.” He had grumbled. “People will be suspicious. Not only would that endanger the Inquisition and your reputation, but also you and the kid’s life. Don’t let that happen.”

None of them mentioned Solas. Lavellan didn’t know whether to be grateful about it or not. Part of her was relieved. She didn’t want to think about how it would have been different if he were here, if he knew. She suspected he may have found out from her dreams, but she couldn’t linger on it without a cold chill settling in her lungs. _If he knew, why wouldn’t he come home? Surely even if his feelings for me are gone and he feels compelled to do whatever was so important to him, he would at least want to know his child?_ If he hadn’t left, would he be excited or afraid of the prospect of children? Would he have doted on her, as she had seen new fathers do to their wives? Would he have spent each knight curled beside her with his hands resting protectively over her belly? He would have chased Sera away any time she came near her, she thought, and a smile came to her lips.

The other part of her wanted to scream at them all for not even acknowledging him. _This is his child_! She wanted to yell. _No matter how much we all pretend he doesn’t exist anymore, he does. He’s her father and I can’t change it no matter how much I wish it weren’t so._ What if she had his eyes? What if her hair was dark as his had been, instead of bright like hers? He was a part of this child, and she shuddered at the thought of denying her daughter half of who she was.

She must have let out a melancholy sigh because the other women in the room all turned to look at her. “Do you need a rest, Inquisitor?” Josephine asked cautiously.

Lavellan took a deep breath. “Yes,” she replied after a few moments. “Thank you all for being with me today. But I imagine you all have other things to attend you. I’ve kept you far too long. And I do need some sleep.” She yawned for effect.

“Very well, my Lady,” Said Josephine, standing up slowly. “If you need anything…”

“Yes. I know. Thank you.” Lavellan replied, watching them file slowly out the door. Sera lingered for a moment, wringing her hands. “I know we ‘aven’t talked about it much, but…” She bit her lip. “If you ever want me to go out there and find that piece of elfy shite, I’d do it.”

Lavellan couldn’t help a half smile from forming. “Just to stick him full o’ arrows, I mean.” Sera covered quickly. “Piece of rubbish didn’t know what he had.” She laughed nervously and balled her hands into tight fists at her side. “We all care about you, y’know? So don’t do anything stupid. Leave that bit to us.” She finished before scurrying down the stairs.

Lavellan fell gratefully back into the pillows and closed her eyes, resting both of her hands over her stomach. “I will make sure you know who your father was, at the very least,” She smiled. “How he was gentle and kind, and breathed magic and the Fade as easily as if it were air…”


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas is alone in the aftermath of his encounter with the pride demon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit content in this chapter.

He felt Wisdom’s absence more keenly than ever.

It had been several nights since his encounter with the pride demon, and Solas was still reeling from the experience. The selfish, irresponsible, side of him begged and pleaded to go to Skyhold, to take his love into his arms and shower her with affection and praise; to listen to the tiny life she carried with her. When he wasn’t careful that side of him overtook all his senses, and all he could feel was his heart aching for the comfort her skin pressed up against him. It would have been so easy to him to slip into the Fade and find her. She wouldn’t even know he was there, he could just watch- just listen to her and watch her grow in her command of the Fade. And if it were right, he could reveal himself to her again, just for a moment, just to taste her breath and feel the warm swell of her belly against him-

The part of him that was guilt-ridden and duty-bound growled at him and tried desperately to quash the blooming feelings of love and arousal in his chest. _No,_ it told him, _remember the oath you swore. You cannot forsake your duty to the People. In following the path you have chosen, you will save her as well as all of the Elvhen. You cannot risk her. You cannot bring her or your child into danger, they will be destroyed and you would be undone. Let them live in peace and safety. Without you._ His heart countered with waves of rage and aching love, but his mind answered firmly. _You don’t deserve that. Give them what is best. Give them freedom from you and from their captors._

Solas could barely sleep he was so at war with himself. The wolf in him prowled the edge of both thoughts, drawn in by the allure of a pack, yet determined, fierce, and deadly. His conscious thought, caught in the middle between ardent desire and grim determination, struggled each moment, always tempted to give in one way or the other. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Choosing one meant forsaking the other. He couldn’t make that sacrifice. And he didn’t have time to delay.

He wished he could cross into the Fade and find Wisdom and ask her for her sage advice. She had always been there for him, even since he was a young foolish man, to help him, to guide him. Now he was grown and wise enough to know he was a fool, and he had no way of knowing which path right.

Were he a man of faith, he might have prayed to the Maker, or beseeched Andraste for her guidance. He smiled grimly at the thought. If only he was as sure footed in his decisions as his vhenan. She made decisions that shook mountains and shaped nations, never hesitating more than a few moments when the question arose. She would have chosen already, Solas thought to himself. Yes, were she in his position, she would have cast everything aside to go to him. She was driven by her heart and her feelings, moved by love and mercy, and Compassion guided her. She wouldn’t turn away from a single person’s suffering.

She was perfect in that way. Her tongue was sharp, but her heart tender. She had disdained the haughty and self-righteous, and took pleasure in the company of those who sought freedom and equality.

Solas closed his eyes and lay back with a sigh on the rock he had claimed as his perch that evening. Even as he did, he could see her bright eyes in his mind, hear the lilt of her voice and the caress of her laughter. There was no higher being he worshipped, no one he was a slave to; yet his devotion to her caused him to question. Loving her was the closest he had ever come to believing in a god.

His heart began to beat faster and he felt himself losing to the passion driven part of his heart that yearned so badly for her. He felt a betraying stir in the pit of his abdomen as he pictured her face: clear of the cruel marks of slavery she had unknowingly carried. He conjured the image of her in his mind and felt the soft puff of her breath on his lips the moment she had kissed him in the Fade. He tasted her tongue, the edge of it lightly responding to his own advances as primal desire grew in his chest.

Solas bit down on his lip, pleading with himself to regain some semblance of self-control, but he knew it was a losing battle. There was blood on his lip, and his tongue sought it out of its own accord and he let out an unwitting moan as the metallic taste drew images to his head of the golden halla on the plains, the form she had taken when they had clashed in their dreams. He tasted the blood as the wolf had, and it pushed him into a frenzy he couldn’t stop. He smelled her around him, felt the press of her flesh, the soft warmth of her taking him, accepting him, delighting in him.

His grim conscience cursed him as his traitorous hands fumbled with the belt at his waist and he felt himself stiffen in anticipation. As he yanked the binding away he conjured her in his mind as she had been in her tent, the first time he had joined with her. The rise and fall of her chest, the tiny beads of sweat on her brow, the curve of her breasts-

Solas took ahold of himself and freed his erection from his breeches, heaving in a deep sigh. He didn’t open his eyes for fear of losing the perfect illusion of his love, but he could tell he was red and swollen for her.

“Vhenan,” He breathed as if she could hear him. “ _Fenedhis lasa._ I miss the warmth of you…” He rolled his thumb over the head, collecting the thin bit of moisture that resided there and spreading it over his tip. His chest heaved with the delicate motion.

_Ar lath ma, vhenan._ The words she had whispered then to him came unbidden in his mind and he took the base of his shaft into his other hand, his hips bucking from the rock as the pleasure passed like a sharp blade through his abdomen. He held his eyes closed and imbibed all his memories of her: the sharp angle of her shoulder blades, the pert nubs of her nipples, the thin white scar on her left hip, the swell of her ass as he gripped her hips and pulled himself to her.

He pumped his shaft once, releasing the head and licking the fingers of his right hand. He moaned loudly, uncaring what attention he might draw in the solitary wilderness. The warm soft brush of her tongue- he pressed his fingers between his legs to cradle himself, drawing his other hand up the full length of his shaft, lingering at the tip and then down again. The splay of her silvery hair beneath him, the catch of it on his ear as she buried her face into his shoulder, biting down into his neck, eliciting an exquisite gasp of pain. The way he had fit inside her, the entirety of his length buried in her slick warmth-

All semblance he had of control was gone and he bucked wildly into his hands, aching and desiring her but never quite reaching-

Solas let out a strangled cry in frustration as he recalled her legs wrapping around his hips, her heels digging into the flesh of his thighs, the soft hisses of pleasure and the chant of his name on her lips. “Vhenan,” He called hoarsely into the still night air. “Emma’lath, ma nuvenin-” He choked on the words in his throat as desperately he tried to emulate the true warmth of her with his pathetic hands. “Ellana,” He growled, tasting her name on his lips for the first time since he had left. “Ar laa-” his voice broke with a cry of anger and frustration. He needed her closer- he needed her enveloping him, her arms pressed to him, her nails digging into his skin.

“Please,” He begged to the image in his mind. “End this torment. End it. Release me, I cannot-” He hissed as his hands caught on his skin, disrupting his movement and breaking his concentration on her. “No,” he whined, summoning her back to him with all his will, sealing his eyes against the night sky. “Let me taste you, vhenan- please- grant me this.”

He paused his movements for only a moment to lave his tongue over his hand, tasting the saltiness of himself and the sweat. It wasn’t her- it was nothing like her and it would never be complete without her- but the wet heat of his hand helped, and his motions became more fluid as he continued to pump himself with one hand and press at the soft skin beneath with is other.

“Ellana,” He whispered in reverence, much as one he imagined would whisper to a god. “I delight in you, in your beauty-” He grimaced, trying to maintain focus. “In your grace, your wisdom—” His breaths were coming in shorter spurts now and he could feel himself approaching the end. “My heart,” Solas cried out, preparing to throw himself over the edge. “Forgive me, make me whole, bless me with your company…” His words turned to dust as his eyes flew open and swam with the stars as he came into his hands. He held his grip, letting a roar rip from his lungs into the night sky. He felt his hand covered in his hot stickiness and gave himself a few more desperate pumps as he rode the pleasure of his orgasm as far as it could take him. “Vhenan, please…” He whimpered uselessly as his body fell still. “I can’t reach you,” he said under his breath. He had fallen short, and if anything he felt less fulfilled than before.

He cursed himself as he rolled limply to the side to wipe his hands in the mossy patch on which he lay. His stomach was slick with his seed, the same that had sewn life in her womb, he thought bitterly. In a rush he tried to wipe himself with the hem of his tunic that was clinging to his sweat covered chest. He drank in the night air greedily, still shivering with the pain of the loss of her.

He felt on the verge of weeping, and the duty-sworn part of him chided him for his carelessness. _You are destroying yourself,_ it scolded. _Let her fly free of you. You will return to calm if you let her go. She will heal without you. She is resilient._ He shook his head, his heart still beating with the love of her, with the screaming desire to hold his daughter in his own arms.

_Let her go._

“Or don’t,” Said a soft voice behind him.

Were he not versed in the ways of spirits he would have jumped in alarm or tried to cover himself in shame. As it was, he just lay there, unmoving.

“I am not Wisdom, and I’m sorry she died. You know she’ll come back, in time. And a new friendship between you can bloom.” Cole spoke from his seat near Solas’ head, the fabric of the spirit’s trousers brushing against the tips of his ears. “I am not her. I am me, and I am your friend too. I heard your pain tonight, sharp, deep like a knife twisting in my gut, fingers grasping never reaching. I just want to touch, to feel- it hurts and hurts and I’m torn in two with a wolf prowling down the middle and oh how it knots inside me like thistles in fabric.”

Solas didn’t even have the voice to respond to Cole. He felt trapped in a crevice, unable to reach comfort on either side of his mind.

“You can climb out.” Cole offered. “I may not know what’s wise, but I know what will calm and ease your pain.”

“I…” Solas began, his tongue sour with the taste of despair.

“You can’t decide.” Cole said for him. “You can’t choose whether to let your heart rule you or your mind.” He placed a comforting hand on Solas’ forehead and wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed there. “But isn’t happiness better than suffering? Shouldn’t the light in her eyes and the breath of a child be worth more than the punishment you want to bring upon yourself?

“If you punish yourself you punish them, too. All of them. Not just the Inquisitor and her daughter, but all of us. We miss you.” He added.

“It is not that simple, Cole.” Solas sighed.

“Why not?”

“Because—” But the answer wouldn’t come. His mind was blank. He deserved to pay. He deserved to suffer, that was without question. The things he had done were not forgivable. His actions had led to the downfall of his People and now he had betrayed his old friend for the sake of power to right his wrongs. But if all the atonement he heaped upon himself brought suffering to the woman he loved, to his child, was it truly worth it?

“I’ve learned a lot.” Cole began again. “I am more me, I flit between places and times and I hear their thoughts and I help and I soothe. But I know more about here now, too. Doesn’t the wolf hunt most efficiently in its pack? Can’t the power of two people joined by unbreakable bonds accomplish more than one alone? You seek the path to redemption and freedom. The trail isn’t so narrow you need to walk alone. You have always trusted the spirits to guide you when you falter, why can’t people do the same?”

“People are different than spirits.” Solas protested weakly.

“That’s not what you think.” Cole scolded.

“…People take longer to trust.” Solas finished.

“And yet,” Cole said. “You are the one who broke trust with her.”

Something snapped in him, and Solas sat up suddenly and lashed out at Cole with a snarl. The spirit looked at him sadly as he avoided the elf with ease, brushing back like the wind to a space out of his reach. Cole was right and Solas knew it. The anger on his face twisted into a grimace and he could feel the muscles contort with grief. “Cole, I…” He began, lamely.

“Shh,” Cole hushed, moving back toward him and bringing the elf’s head to rest against his knees. Solas was compliant; the anger within him had torn open a wound he didn’t realize he was carrying and he leaned docile against the spirit’s comforting embrace. “Sometimes you have to pull the arrow out to heal the wound. You have to cut the knot before you can put the pieces of string back together again, break the bone to set it. I want to help you, Solas.

“Come home,” He continued. “Lay your head on her breast and be healed. There is nothing that can stop you except yourself.”

Solas was silent for a moment. “I fear if I give in, I will never have the strength to do what I need to.” He confessed.

“I’m not Wisdom,” Cole said softly. “I don’t know the answer to that. But how will you ever learn the answer if you don’t let time pass?” The young man chuckled to himself, remembering a time he stood in the courtyard prepared to end a man’s life. “I don’t know, and neither do you.” He quoted to the elf in his lap. “That’s what she taught me.”

_Ar lath ma, vhenan._ Ellana’s voice floated on the wind to his ears and Solas let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He took ahold of her sound in his mind and held it tightly as his eyes fluttered closed, slipping into the first restful sleep he had had in days.


	5. Five

Solas paced back and forth, a wolf in the trees, as he struggled against himself. The mountain path was becoming filled with snow; it would be near impossible to travel through on foot. And when he arrived at the gates, what then? Just walk right in, back to the rotunda as if nothing had happened? There was no way. He’d be peppered with arrows and other foul things as soon as he set foot in the door. Leaving without an explanation was not the exact way to ensure a warm welcome.

_Better to leave. Seek the Eluvian, complete your task._

The wolf growled. He had resolved to come this far, could he live with himself if he didn’t follow through? He howled bitterly. At the very least, he just had to see her. Just see that she was okay, that she was happy. To see if the spark still lived in her eyes, the slight ruffle of her silvery hair. To watch the way her chest rose and fell as she breathed. The wolf pulled back its jowls in a grimace. Would she be heavy with his child? Would he be able to see the swell of her belly that bore the life they had created?

_You won’t be able to control your desires. You will never help the People. She is temptation. Do not give in._

But Cole had lit a fire in his heart with his words. His determination to see her, to see his child, was slowly forcing the grim and fatalistic side into submission.

His chest rumbled. The wolf began to pad its way through the snow up the pass, taking care to lurk amongst the trees to avoid the attention of the Inquisition’s guards that patrolled the way to aid the pilgrims. His thick fur hid him from the cold; his great paws drew him effortless over the snow. He could smell the crisp cold air, the pine trees, the scent of humans, and a thin column of smoke. _Home._

He could see the walls of the castle in the distance. They rose high and proud, a challenge to any that approached. _See if you can break me_ , the fortress taunted. He felt his limbs trembling. Not his home any longer. He had betrayed that. Now he was one of the many who sought to infiltrate the walls for his own benefit.  The wolf snorted and he steeled his himself against the discomfort he felt. He summoned the strength and pride in heart. He would go to his castle. He would see his woman. He would see his child.

He marched on.

 

Ellana Lavellan was reclining in her chambers as she so often did nowadays. She was swollen and heavy and for once was delighting in having her inner circle taking care of everything for her. Her bouts of sickness had passed and now she liked to spend her days reading with a merry fire crackling in the fireplace. The days were often filled with snow and there was something delightfully lovely about the frost interplaying with the stained glass windows that adorned her quarters. The snow made everything hush, and all the usual noises of Skyhold- loud discussions in the main hall, swords ringing against shields in the courtyard- were all muffled by the soft white covering.

Over the past few months since she had discovered she was with child she had grown more and more content. The ache in her chest that missed Solas- desired and longed for him, really- was drowned out by a warm glow that radiated from her center to the tips of her ears and she fell deeper and deeper in love with the life she carried.

The world had finally settled into place like snow on the mountaintops. The fights across Thedas were fewer now, at least between mages and templars. They had found their troops were needed less and representatives needed more. This had Josephine happily humming and planning in her office each day, while Cullen fretted with anxiety over having nothing to do. He had taken to drawing extremely detailed maps and asking Blackwall for help carving exquisite figurines for the war table. Sera took full advantage of this, every once in a while going into his office and moving just one of the ink wells or quills just slightly to the left so it was askew. She would come panting up to Lavellan’s room, eyes bright with mischief and nose red from the cold and recount every bit of fun she had had- how a snowball had caught Iron Bull in the back of the head and had resulted in an all out snowball fight between the Chargers that spread over the whole courtyard, must to Cassandra’s dismay.

When Lavellan wasn’t in her quarters, she was wandering the garden.  She delighted in the icicles hanging from the leafless trees and the stark contrast of the blood red berries appearing on the bushes against the black wood and white snow. Josephine scolded her, but she could rarely bring herself to wear shoes in the snow. “If you catch a cold, Inquisitor,” she warned, “Cassandra will wring your neck for your carelessness. And I may just watch.”

But it didn’t dissuade her. Standing in the snow and feeling the soft wet chills on her toes took her back to her youth, when she and her sister and a few of the others in her Clan had raced around in the first snow of the year. They’d tried to craft intricate patterns, or just try to leave the most complex trail possible and dare another to figure out what they had been doing. More recently, it reminded her of her dream where she stood in the snow beneath the pines at Haven in her dream when he had come for her for just a moment, just to press a kiss to her brow and apologize. That was how she chose to remember him. Not the distant man she barely recognized who had avoided her before Corypheus’ fall. The man who had never even told her goodbye.

Ellana sighed and nestled into the pillows in the warmth of her bed. She held the latest chapter of Swords and Shields- one she had personally paid Varric to write to Cassandra’s ecstatic dismay. She had loved reading as a child and found herself grateful for the chance to do so. Cassandra came to her room often to sit and read with her, and Dorian never missed the opportunity to bring her the latest additions to the library. Once, Lavellan had suggested the two of them start a book club. Cassandra had turned a bright shade of red and shook her head furiously, but Dorian had declared it an excellent idea and posted flyers all over the fortress advertising a lively book reading of Swords and Shields by the Divine-Elect Cassandra Pentaghast. It almost would have become an event that attracted the whole castle had the Seeker not raged and threatened to have Dorian executed if he did not take all the posters down.

Cassandra had been right: these books were terrible and magnificent. Varric seemed to be going out of his way to ensure Cassandra was always embaressingly happy. This latest issue had an unusually high number of rabbits in it, which delighted Cole, as well as a romance between two side characters: a scarred and battle worn woman and a rugged, handsome warrior-poet who delighted in surprising his lady with flowers and chocolates. Ellana chuckled as she read about the warrior-poet collecting tiny baby bunnies to surprise his woman (named Alexandra) and suddenly realized she wasn’t alone.

“Cole?” She called out tentatively. “Did you want me to read to you some more?” No one else in Skyhold could possibly have entered her room quietly enough for her to not notice. There was a clouded figure on the other side of the frosted glass that led to her balcony. “Cole.” She scolded. “If you want to be in my company, come in. You don’t have to stand outside like a stranger.” She placed her book down and swung her feet to the floor and the child in her belly stirred so she placed her hands over her stomach protectively. She picked up her staff and the hilt of her spirit blade and walked to the window, shuffling her feet lightly across the thick fur rugs on the floor and pushed the door open.

 

 

            When he had arrived at the castle walls as a wolf, Solas stood face to face with one of the greatest obstacles he had encountered in his long life. He couldn’t walk into Skyhold as himself, and certainly not as a wolf. He whined plaintively and began to skirt around the outside walls, being careful not to draw any attention from the ramparts. Thankfully, this time the wolf was covered in snow-white fur, a stark contrast from the harsh black creature of rage that had torn the pride demon apart.

            He could feel her nearby and his heart beat with relief. The soft press of her magic and the brightness of the anchor was easily sensed in the air and it sent a shiver through his body. The grim side of him frowned with disapproval, but that was all it could manage. His heart roared with a passion he had nearly forgotten and he was driven wild at the thought of seeing her, touching her, smelling her- actually seeing her, flesh and blood. The wolf licked its chops as it scanned the base of the tower for a way in. He supposed he could climb in from the Undercroft, but that would mean sneaking past the blacksmith and Dagna, who, for a dwarf, was incredibly perceptive of just about anything magical. Not to mention he’d have to cross the throne room to reach the stairs to her chambers.

            Solas padded around in circles nervously. What was the use of having a few millennia’s worth of magical knowledge if it couldn’t get him to where he needed to be? A twitter of winter songbirds overhead caught his attention and he swiveled his ears to listen and glanced up at the sky.

            Wolves were not meant to fly. Absolutely not. He had taken the name Dread Wolf for a reason. It was as natural to him as his elven form. He had never even considered studying the forms of other animals. Certainly he would never have become any kind of prey, a deer or a rabbit. He was a predator. Small birds would not do for him. If only he could will wings to sprout from his wolfish shoulder blades and propel himself up to her balcony. That would be entirely ridiculous, he scolded himself. The whole point of trying to go directly to her chambers was to avoid attention. He could only imagine what kind of commotion a winged wolf would cause. Iron Bull doubtless would have organized a massive hunt to bring the rare beast down.

            He sat in the snow and brushed his tail side to side. He snorted, resigned, and began to reach into the fade for a new form. As he did, he was struck with the image of a hawk, bright eyed and fierce. Perfect. Little attention, mighty predator. His pride would remain in tact and he would remain undetected.

            He stretched his shoulders as he forelegs unfolded into wings and his teeth turned to a razor sharp back. His spine shrank and gave up its weight as fur turned to feathers. He spread his tail and clawed experimentally in the snow with his sharp talons and was surprised by how keen his vision had become. As a wolf he’d been able to hear far better than any human or elf, and his sense of smell led him through the world infallibly. But now he could see the crisp edges of the mountains, the slight sway of trees miles away, and pick out every stone in the pavement between the bricks of the fortress. It was bright and almost overwhelming, and for a minute he forgot he needed to figure out how to fly to be able to go anywhere. He wanted to soar over the forest in this new form, to see things he had never been able to imagine as elf or wolf, and view the world from an entirely new perspective. The thought of new knowledge sent a shiver down his spine.

            But even then his heart thudded in his strong and muscled breast, remembering clearly why he was here.

            Solas gave a few experimental flaps of his wings and managed to knock the snow around him into a frenzied gust. He was strong, amazingly strong for such a light creature. This was it. This was what he had waited for. He tensed his legs, lifted his wings and sprang forward. It was not nearly as terrifying as he imagined as he lifted off the ground. Reading the wind was like reading the currents of magic, and he angled his wings into the stream, just as he would his hands casting a spell, and rose on the currents of warm air emanating from Skyhold. It was beautiful. Snow was piled and heavy on the rooftops, children of pilgrims and soldiers played in the courtyard, building snowmen or throwing snowballs at each other. Smoke rose from the chimneys and inquisition soldiers sat happily around a fire, roasting bits of meat and vegetables on long sticks. The tavern’s windows were all aglow, and with his keen eyes he saw the people inside, drinking down steaming tankards.

            Finally he settled his sights on the balcony before her chambers. A breath caught in his throat- or would have were he not a hawk- as he remembered the first time he had stood there. She had clasped his wrist so tenderly, her voice so soft as he gave into both of their desires and kissed her there in the sunlight. _Ar lath ma,_ _vhenan_.

            Landing turned out to be much harder than flying was. He slowed himself carefully as he approached the snow-laden railing, but his limbs were unfamiliar and he couldn’t stabilize himself, so his talons gripped uselessly at the handle and he plummeted face first into a pile of snow that had drifted up against the window.

            Cursing his ineptitude, he quickly shifted back to his elven form, drawing himself from the snow and brushing himself off furiously. Clearly, he would need to work on his landing skills if he ever wanted to take the form of a hawk again.

            “Cole?”

            He froze. Her voice pierced him like a blade and he was frozen in place by horror and delight. What was he doing? He shouldn’t be here.

            “Did you want me to read to you some more?” Her voice was crisp as the water that fell from the mountain and he stood for a moment drunk on the sensation. The fire in his heart burned, but his other self grew bolder as well. _Go!_ It cried. _There can be no good outcome. You’ll only destroy yourself._

            “Cole,” She spoke again and her voice rang like a bell, paralyzing him. “If you want to be in my company, come in. You don’t have to stand outside like a stranger.”

            He tensed, ready to shift back into his hawk self and flee, but her shadow was approaching through the frosted glass. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t think or breathe. He screwed his eyes shut and his whole body tensed. The door before him pushed open, moving a small pile of snow at his feet. His throat was dry and his mind went completely blank as he took in the sight of the woman in front of him. She stood tall and proud, just as he remembered her. Her silver hair was tousled, her face bright. The thin curve of her fingers wrapped around her belly. He could barely suppress a sigh of happiness as he saw she was heavy with child, her stomach swelled with life, and her breasts were heavy with milk. His heart melted and all fear left him. Solas took a cautionary step forward, fully prepared to gather her into his arms and shower her with kisses and affection. Everything he had suffered paled in comparison to the sight of her.

She looked at him for a brief second before her violet eyes went wide and she covered her hand with her mouth in shock. She didn’t speak. Seconds passed that felt like eternity and finally his tongue freed itself from its paralysis. “Vhenan,” he breathed.

            She slammed the door in his face.


	6. Six

No. No. No no no no no. This wasn’t happening. Lavellan turned from the door that she swung closed and let out a small cry as she leaned heavily on her staff. This was a dream. A demon had come to torment her. She felt the tears well up in her eyes and she took in several stifled breaths. The child in her belly kicked and pushed against her and she wrapped her hand around her belly, whispering soothing words to both herself and her daughter.

            He couldn’t be here. Not now. Not when she was finally beginning to know peace. He was gone and she had accepted that. She had a family, the Inquisition was her family and her daughter was going to grow up knowing nothing but love and devotion. If he was here now that meant the scar in her chest would swallow her whole and she would be left a shadow of herself, begging for the presence of the man she loved. If he was here that meant she could be hurt all over again, and this time it might kill her.

            She glanced back at the window. He- no. No. It was still standing there. She straightened herself and gripped her sword hilt in her hands, willing power to flow through her from the Fade. She took a deep breath.

            “What do you want?” She demanded.

            The form on the other side of the door shuffled in the snow but did not respond. Lavellan growled angrily. “Answer me.” She commanded, her words laced with magic. The door pulled slightly open, and he slipped his thin form inside and stood before her.

            Her mouth was agape as she looked him up and down. It was him, it was Solas- or something that looked just like him. But he was different. There was a new power in him she hadn’t felt before. Magic moved around him and the Veil seemed to flow about his limbs like waves lapping at the shore of a lake. Her jaw trembled and tears threatened to fall from her eyes. She would not let them. She straightened herself as tall as she could and glared at him.

            “What are you?” She growled. “Did you come here to torment me? Has my suffering been so loud that it has brought a demon to my door?”

            The man before her winced and stumbled back as if she had wounded him. “It is I,” he whispered. “I’m not a demon, I’m not.” He stuttered.

            She eyed him suspiciously. “Why are you here?” She asked again. It must have been toying with her. She had hid the desire to see him again so deep within her that she was sure a demon must have clawed its way through the Veil to drag it up and torment her.

            “I had to come,” He continued, straightening back up to look at her with pained eyes. He reached his hand out to her, just far enough to brush against her pinky where she held her staff in front of her and she recoiled as if she had been shocked by electricity. Lavellan let out a cry of dismay because it was real- it was him it really was- she knew that touch intimately and completely and instantly all of her fears and sadness were replaced with rage.

            He was looking at her with tender eyes, soft and loving, just as he had looked when he kissed her after removing the vallaslin. Fire bloomed in her chest and she glared at him. How dare he. How could he look at her like that after he had been gone for months?

            “Vhenan,” he said again softly. She was undone. Lavellan roared angrily and swung her staff at him, hard, catching him in the face and knocking him to the floor. He groaned in pain but didn’t protest, didn’t even try to get up.

            “Oh, are you calling me that again?” She spat. All the rage she had been too numb to feel when he had walked away. She had played the bigger person, suffering through his casual indifference, only once raising her voice to him. Things were different now. He had no right to decide how to approach her. “Well, I’ve gotten used to Inquisitor. Don’t you dare call me anything but that. It’s how you wanted it before. This is what you have wrought.”

            The words cut Solas deep and he felt a stabbing pain in his gut. She was right. She was right. He had done this. He had cut her off from him. He had no right to even speak her name. He wiped away the blood he tasted at the corner of his mouth; he had bitten his lip as he fell and he could feel it swelling. He looked up at her from where he lay on the floor and she was perfect. A goddess in righteous fury.

            “Inquisitor.” He hated the way the word tasted in his mouth. His pride roared against it. He should have her in his arms by now, his tongue should be on her flesh and she should be gripping at him and heaving sighs and confessions of love. He quelled the rush of anger and arousal that swelled in his stomach and locked his eyes with hers. “Forgive me. I am at your mercy.” He whispered.

            She laughed darkly. “You are at mine? An odd turn of events.” Her voice rose in volume with each word she spoke. “You _left me_. You left me standing in the forest, alone, afraid and embarrassed and I was too in love with you to see it wasn’t my fault. You never even told me why.” Her voice was fractured. “You promised. You told me once Corypheus was gone you would make everything clear. _You lied._ ” She hissed at him. “You disappeared without a goodbye or an explanation, and I was left here alone. Creators, I thought you were the least likely to inflict that kind of cruelty on another person. I guess I was wrong.

            “You left me alone and questioning and now you return. Why? Because I’m carrying your child?” She spat at him on the floor. “Is that what I am to you? Some kind of- of incubator for your offspring? You come back here now because you know I’m going to give birth to your child, and you won’t even let me have that?”

            “That’s not true.” He said to the ground. “I came here for you.”

            “If that were true you would have been back sooner.” She snarled. “No, it was only you figured out that I was pregnant that you decided to come back.” She held the sword hilt protectively in front of her stomach, light flickering from the base. “You won’t take her from me. You’ve taken enough already.”

            Solas pushed himself from the floor to his knees, the wolf stirring furiously in his chest. “You think so little of me?” He growled.

            “What reason have you given me to believe otherwise?” She countered and it hit him like a slap in the face.

            “I told you what we had was real.” He murmured.

            She laughed at him again. “Oh yes, and that fixed everything didn’t it? Your word means so much. You said you loved me. You said you would tell me why. Why should I believe that when all evidence is to the contrary? Clearly there is something in this world you love more than you ever loved me. Your pride. Your legacy. Now this child is part of it and you can’t have her stay here with me, among all of these _shemlen_.”

            She was trying to hurt him. To wound him. And it was working. _You should have stayed away!_ He reprimanded himself. He glared harshly at the beautiful woman before him. “I came for you!” He roared. “You have no idea what you are talking about.” He drew himself up to full height and he felt the Veil twist around him in his rage. “You couldn’t possibly know. The things I’ve done- the things I have to do, I could never let you be a part of it.”

            She was shrinking away from him and he could see the tears threatening the corners of her eyes. “Why?” she asked in an angry sob. “You tell me you love me, you fuck me again and again and tell me that you had never been happier, and you can’t even let me be a part of you?”

            Solas’ anger didn’t quiet. “You would have died!” He howled at her. “You were needed here and if you came with me you would be dead! Don’t ask me to do that.” He growled. “Don’t ask me ever to put you somewhere where I couldn’t protect you.”

            “You think I need your protection?” She asked incredulously, grief and fear turning to pride and anger. “Last time I checked, I was pretty capable of defending myself. You know, walking out of the Fade _twice_ , outsmarting an archdemon, escaping an avalanche, killing dragons, toppling an evil darkspawn god monster?” She chuckled darkly to herself. “Do you have any idea how many times people have tried to kill me?” She bellowed.

            “All too well.” Solas replied through gritted teeth.

            “But suddenly whatever mystical bullshit you’re dealing with is something I can’t handle. Maybe I could learn from you. Let me try, in my own fumbling way,” she said mockingly, “to learn from how you used the stolen elven orb to seal the Breach and manage to permanently kill an immortal darkspawn from the dawn of time. Oh wait.” She paused, putting a finger on her chin for effect. “That wasn’t you. That was me.”

            Solas’ face flushed red with anger and embarrassment. “You are a child.” He hissed. “You are a child who knows nothing of her heritage. Nothing of the danger and cruelty that led to your people’s downfall. If I had allowed you to stay close to me you would have been killed. I would have been destroyed. It was better the way I left it.

            “Do you think there was a single instant my heart didn’t ache from the lack of you? That I was happier without you by my side? I would die for you, vhenan.” He said in a pleading voice. “It was better for both of us this way.”

            “And you’re the only one who gets a say in that?” She asked brokenly. Tears fell from her face in earnest now and her staff clanged to the floor as she wrapped both her arms around her middle, cradling her swollen belly. “You idiot.” She heaved in a shaking breath. “Don’t you know that ‘I love you’ means I would rather walk the most dangerous path possible in this world or the next along side you than be kept ‘safe’ away from you?” She let out a heaving sob and clenched her stomach and he saw her knees give way beneath her.

            In an instant all Solas’ anger dried up and he was left with only concern and incredible anguish. He rushed toward her to as she stumbled to the floor and slid onto his knees to catch her when she fell. She crashed against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her, cradling her head to his shoulder. And it didn’t matter that she was crying and his heart was torn in two or that she beat her fists against him and tried to cling to him at the same time. A sob threatened to burst from his chest but he swallowed it and reveled in the feeling of holding her. He was whole. Tears stung his eyes but in this moment he was complete. He buried his face into the nape of her neck and breathed in deep the smell of her.

            “The fault is mine. You were right. I was selfish.” The words poured out of him like water from a pitcher and his heart grew lighter with each syllable. “I should never have raised my voice to you. You have endured loss that others cannot fathom and I should never have been so cruel. Truly, I am a fool.” He curled his fingers into her hair. “Emma’lath,” he cooed gently into her ear. “I’m so sorry.”

            Her sobs didn’t abate, so he began to stroke her back and sing softly in elvish into her ear. All that mattered in the world was here. It was right here. Even the grim and determined part of him didn’t have anything to say. He pressed kisses to her ear and forehead in between verses and felt her slowly relax, her cries became softer, gentler, and silent tears.

            Lavellan lay her head against his chest, her face still wet. She took refuge in the deep hum of his chest as he sang and felt her body grow heavy with exhaustion from the range of emotions she had just gone through. Gods, she had missed the warm press of his body so much. It killed her to admit it, but finally, _finally_ , the knots of resentment in her chest were gone. She leaned into him, breathing in deeply and clinging to his tunic. The wolf jawbone he wore pressed against her chest, but it didn’t matter. It was more comfortable here than the empress’ silk laden bed would have been.

Her daughter kicked in her belly and she felt Solas twitch and his voice caught on one of the elvish words that had been flowing like honey from his lips. “Was that her?” He asked quietly.

            She let out a soft chuckle and nodded against his collarbone. “Yes,” she said quietly. “She’s been doing that quite a bit lately.” She leaned back in his arms and met his steely blue gaze with her own, a betraying smile forming on her lips. He looked at her and a laugh escaped his lips. Lavellan gently took his hands in hers and pressed them to her belly.

            There had never, in hundreds and hundreds of years, been anything so miraculous as this, Solas thought. He closed his eyes and focused on the tiny heartbeat his love carried within her. He reached out with magic, stroking and caressing the small consciousness and he felt and Ellana respond with a soft hum. “A mage,” Solas whispered. “Like her mother.”

            Lavellan didn’t realize he could still make her blush but somehow he did. She felt the tips of her ears flush with blood. “And her father,” she returned softly. Solas laughed, all pain and anger forgotten, replaced with dazzling, splendid joy. Lavellan looked at him as he gazed at her belly, moving his thumbs gently over the fabric and delighting in the tiny movements he felt beneath. He was perfect. This stupid, egotistical, selfish, bald asshole of an elf was perfect. Maybe one day, she thought to herself, she’d be able to completely forgive him.

            “I’m thinking of naming her Sera.” She said slyly. Solas was jolted out of his reverie and eyed her suspiciously.

            “You jest,” He accused and she couldn’t stop the mirth that bubbled in her throat.

            “No, I’m serious,” She said through peals of laughter. “Sera has already offered to teach her the true ways of the elvhen. She’s going to teach her to throw pies and make bee grenades and swear like mmphh-”

            He silenced her with a kiss, sealing his mouth over hers. She tasted better than all his memories combined and the way she opened herself to him sent his senses reeling. His hands tangled into her hair and she responded in kind by cupping her hands around the line of his jaw, thumbs delicately brushing his ears.

            They pulled away form each other, breathless, each still desperately maintaining contact with the other. “You shouldn’t be on the floor,” Solas told her.

            “Maybe not,” she agreed. “But the carpet is comfortable. A gift from the Duke of Kellington, Josephine tells me.”

            He clicked his tongue to chide her and lifted her to her feet. “Come, lay beside me for a while.”

            She followed him to the bed, her hand clasped tightly in his. She sat down on the edge and he kneeled before her and pressed a kiss to her stomach. “You carry such grace,” He whispered reverently as he stood and sat to join her. He caught her blush before she turned her face away to recline on the pillows. He curled himself beside her and began to play softly with her hair.

            “If you leave again, I’ll kill you.” Ellana said softly as she relaxed under his gentle ministrations.

            “I don’t doubt it.”

            “Or maybe I’ll let the others kill you. Sera is very keen on it.”

            He laughed. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

            She looked up at him, her eyes alight. “You still owe me the truth, you know. About what’s so bad that you’ve done and you need to fix. And I’m coming with you.” Her voice left no room for argument.

            “I understand.” He said. “But now you need rest after the ordeal I put you through.”

            “Yes, _hahren._ ” She said coyly. “But I want you to stay with me. Be here when I wake up.”

            “Of course, _da’len.”_ He said, pulling the covers up around them in the light of the dying fire. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kind words! I'm glad I could share my angst and despair with you all. :) Hopefully there'll be some happiness in there, too.


	7. Seven

“Arise, arise, my lady Inquisitor, I’ve brought you your breakfast and a couple of new books, because Cassandra is going to have me decapitated unless I bring her that chapter you—”

            Dorian stopped in his tracks and the tray he was carrying dropped to the floor with a thud and a clatter. He was not a man easily surprised, or so he like to think, but the this was the last thing he had expected to see when he came by Inquisitor Lavellan’s chambers for their morning tea.

            Ellana was still fast asleep on her bed. No surprise there, he usually had to pinch her toes or catch her with an ice spell to get her up and sentient. What was completely unexpected was the hobo apostate who sat in the chair in the corner of the room, especially since he was thumbing through the latest chapter of Swords and Shields.

            The elf looked up as Dorian dropped the breakfast he had intended for the Inquisitor, and his eyes widened and he made a motion to set the book down and flee out the window.

            “ _You._ ” Dorian growled and leapt after the other man before he had gotten a chance to stand upright from the chair. “You inconsiderate, selfish, filth-loving asshole!” He cried, swinging a fist at the other mage’s face. It collided, and Solas made a grunting sound as he collapsed back into the chair, clutching his jaw. Dorian wrung his fist out, wincing from the contact. “Look what you’ve made me do. I should have just frozen you where you were. These hands were not meant for combat.” The Tevinter sneered.

            “If you’ll allow me a chance to explain-” Solas began, but Dorian swung at him again with his left fist. Solas had the good sense to duck out of the way that time and Dorian’s fist collided with the back of the chair.

            “Do you have any idea what you have put us through? All of us? Especially her?” He snarled. “’No, of course not, what do you mean, it’s not as though I disappeared for near half a year and left the mother of my child to wallow in misery while I was off doing Maker knows what in the moonlight with all of my fairy friends’.”

            Solas glared at the human in front of him. “May I speak?” He asked indignantly.

            “No, I wasn’t done. But now you’ve made me lose my train of thought. Where was I? Oh, yes. ‘Oh, I didn’t realize that abandoning the woman who adored me was an inconsiderate thing to do. I had elfy business to attend to, the sort of thing you non-elfy folk wouldn’t understand. Don’t worry, she’ll be fine without me.’ Meanwhile I’m here with her every day since you’ve been gone dealing with raging elf-hormones and incredible wailing and mood swings like you have never seen! Not that I don’t adore her and cherish every second of the time I’m with her, but for Andraste’s sake, did it even occur to you that you were being the supreme ass of the world?”

            Solas opened his mouth to speak but Dorian interrupted him again. “And what was I going to tell this poor child when she was born, hmm? ‘Dorian, what was my daddy like?’

            ‘Well little one, he was a lot like my father, who didn’t give a rat’s ass about you or your mother and ran off to do more important things instead.’

            ‘Well, he sounds like an asshole.’

            ‘You’re entirely correct my dear, a total asshole. Now come with me and auntie Sera and we’ll bake some cookies in the shape of his egg head so you can crush it with your tiny adorable teeth.’”

            He rounded on Solas once more, becoming far more intimidating than the elf ever imagined the human could be. “If you think you have any right showing your face around here after what you’ve done, you have another thing coming. If I were you, I’d scramble out of that window right now and jump off the mountain before the others get the chance to get their hands on you. I’d like to bash you over your bald head right now, and let me tell you, there’s a line.”

            “Dorian.” Solas insisted, his patience growing thin. “The Inquisitor knows I am here. She asked me to stay.”

            The Tevinter’s eyes widened, and he looked in shock over at Lavellan’s sleeping form. “She let you in here?” He pursed his lips. “Hmm. I suppose that explains all the commotion I heard coming from here last night. And here I thought she had just gotten to the sad part of the book and was throwing a tantrum.”

            “A tantrum about a book?” Solas asked in a deadpan.

            “Well you certainly haven’t been around her enough to know what she’s like pregnant, have you?”

            Both mages turned from glaring at each other at the sound of Ellana stirring beneath the covers. She reached around from beneath the covers as if searching for something, and then sat bolt upright in bed with a gasp. “Solas?” She cried out in a panicked voice before setting her gaze upon were the two of them sat in the corner.

            “I’m here, vhenan. Be calm.” He responded in soothing voice.

            “Oh.” Said Dorian. “I think I can maybe see why she likes you.”

            Solas ignored him. “Did you sleep well?” He intoned.

            Ellana stretched herself in a yawn. “Fine, thanks.” But she quickly covered her mouth in dismay. “No one knows you’re here. They’re all going to kill you.”

            “I’ve already tried, my friend, but he’s as insufferably not-dead as ever.” Dorian said making his way over to her. “The oaf made me drop our tea. I’ll go fetch some more, but be warned, you may have other angry visitors more prone to violence than I.”

            “Be sure to bring a third cup,” Lavellan said with a smile. “We couldn’t exclude our guest now, could we?”

            Dorian placed a hand to his forehead. “Of course! Where are my manners? Dear me, I shall have to ask for an especially strong brew to be made for our friend here.” He winked at her and was off down the stairs.

            Solas eyed Ellana with displeasure, but she just laughed. “Okay, so I will have to command everyone not to kill you on sight.” She sighed.

 

            “So let me get this straight,” Varric began, addressing the concerns of all who now stood gathered in the Inquisitors chambers. Of all of them, only Dorian had the air of a man pleased. Cole’s expression was unreadable as ever, and everyone else seemed to be contemplating the best possible demise for the elvish apostate who stood behind the Inquisitor. “We kick Corypheus’ ass, the orb breaks and it’s too much for him to handle, so he runs away to throw a little elfy-tantrum. Meanwhile, Red’s been searching high and low for any sign of him, especially once we found out about your little _situation_ , and suddenly he comes back however far in you are—”

            “Seven moons, eighteen days.” Cole chimed.

            “—Right. What the Kid said. And you expect us just to let him walk in here and ask like nothing happened and we didn’t have to deal with all this sneaking and lying and political bullshit that’s basically his fault?”

            Lavellan huffed. “Well, sort of.” She said. “I mean, I’ve already wacked him in the face and Dorian got some punches in this morning. And sure, I’m still pissed at him. But—”

            Varric threw his hands up. “I get it, I get it. True love and all that.” He turned to glare in Solas. “Screw up again, Chuckles, and I’ll be sure to add Bianca to the list of women you’ve irreparably insulted.”

            “If I may,” Blackwall spoke up, his voice gruff as usual but hesitant. “The Inquisitor offered me forgiveness and atonement for what I’ve done. That’s part of what makes this Inquisition… more. If she can let me live here as a better man, why shouldn’t she extend the same kindness to Solas?”

            Solas felt a pang in his chest. He had been cruel to the bearded man once the past of Thom Rainier had come to light, but here he was, the first to offer him redemption. Not that he deserved it. His crimes were lengthier and greater than Rainier’s and he deserved every insult they could hurl at him and worse. Still, he felt like a tiny stone had been lifted from the mountain of burdens in his heart and he was grateful.

            “Not that I would be opposed to bashing in whatever he’s got between his legs so he can’t do this again,” Blackwall continued. Solas’ face fell. So much for that. “I had accepted my punishment. If he’s accepted his, I for one will follow the Inquisitor’s example and show him mercy.”

            “Yeah, well that’s hoping for more than he’s worth.” Sera spat. “You went away to atone. To confess. What’d he go away for? To seek ancient elven glory while he left the girl he ‘loved’ to wilt in misery? He’s shown his priorities. I say we find the nastiest old elf ruins we can find and lock him in there. With bees.”

            Solas could barely stop himself from rolling his eyes and maintain a calm demeanor. He could appreciate Sera’s help for the Inquisition, but his opinion of her had never been very high, and this wasn’t doing anything to help.

            “Sera,” Lavellan began, but was interrupted by Dorian.

            “I’ve a splendid idea!” the mage declared. “Since our dear Inquisitor and I have already had our turns, why don’t we allow the rest of the Inquisition’s soldiers to punch him in the face? It would boost morale, that’s for sure.”

            Iron bull let out a throaty chuckle. “Yeah. Probably also kill him.”

            “I didn’t say he couldn’t fight back,” Dorian cried in mock offense. “He’s really good at those barriers, you know. Probably wouldn’t feel a thing.”

            Solas had had enough. “Inquisitor, if I may—”

            “You will speak when spoken to, apostate.” Cassandra snarled with unquestionable authority. “If you have any desire to live to see your child born, I suggest you submit yourself to the mercy of the Inquisition.”

            At this point Josephine spoke up. “This case is an interesting one, but I suggest we proceed as we always have. Let the Inquisitor sit in judgment of his crimes. She is, after all, the one he wronged the most.”

            There was a murmur of consideration among the companions. “Of course,” Josephine continued, “I will allow all of you to list your grievances against him for the trial.”

            “Ha!” Sera shouted. “At the top of the list you should put being a prideful prick.”

            “It will take… time,” Josephine smiled. “To compile this list, Inquisitor. I will leave it to you to decide what to do with Solas in the meantime.”

            Lavellan laughed and looked back at Solas. He eyed her with suspicion and what she thought was a hint of fear. “Oh don’t worry,” She said slyly. “I have some plans.”


	8. Eight

“This is… not what I had in mind,” Solas admitted.

            “Well, you’re my prisoner so you’ll do as I command.” Lavellan said in a singsong voice.

            “Not that I’m opposed,” he continued. “But I must admit I expected something less… frivolous.  For example, serving as a research assistance to Dagna in matters of the arcane.”

            “This isn’t frivolous! This is restoration of the ancient dignity of our culture! Now, hand me the blue, will you?” She asked from her perch on his shoulders.

            Solas sighed as he took the paint brush from her hands and reached for one dipped in the dark grey blue paint he had just mixed from pigments minutes prior. “Be careful with this,” He said gently as she took it and reached up to the stone above their heads. “It will stain your skin and hair. The color is intense with even one coat, so apply it evenly. Carefully, in the area I prepared. Yes, that’s good.”

            Lavellan pressed the brush to the wall and drew it out in fluid movements that left a beautifully even line along the edge of the painting. They stood in her chambers now. She had insisted he teach her to paint, and she wanted her own mural on the walls of her room. He had felt a brush of pride when she asked him to please _please_ finish the mural in the rotunda. “It’s terrible to walk through there while it’s incomplete.” She had told him earnestly as she led him down the stairs from her chamber that morning. “I want to learn. I have nothing but time now and I want to know. I want to be able to know what you know about Arlathan, about our history. I want to speak Elvish like you do- not broken and stumbling phrases like I do now. I’m the last of my Clan-” Her voice caught on the word and she blinked back tears and shook her head. “I want to pass down our legacy. Our true legacy.” She had reached up to touch his face gently with her hand and he had closed his eyes and leaned into the embrace. “Will you teach me?”

            Even if her voice hadn’t been as sweet and intoxicating as mulled wine he would have said yes. Even if she wasn’t the woman he loved above all others he would have given in. In the years since he had awoken he had yearned for someone to teach. Someone to listen. But the elves of this age were proud of their ignorance, leaning on their fallacious oral traditions and bits and scraps of whatever they could read from the land.

            “Ma nuvenin, vhenan.” He responded quietly.

She had pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Ma serannas, ma’salath.” She purred back to him, and he felt a desperate, aching, feeling of love and desire pass through him.

She actually was a good study, despite his concerns that her strongheaded nature might have led to conflicts. But she listened patiently as she sat on the couch and he mixed the paints and carefully told her each color’s elven name. She repeated back to him, a bit stumbling at first, but eventually the words fell like jewels from her lips and he found himself less and less interested in teaching and more and more interested in her subtle movements, the perk of her ears, and the rush of her breath.

            “Hahren,” She had said to him, dragging on the letters. “Don’t you think you’ve been painting that spot for long enough? I’d like the chance to try too, you know. I want a halla in my chambers. Will you help me?”

            He nearly flushed, taken aback. He pulled his brush from the wall. “Yes, of course.” And that was how he found himself acting as her own personal ladder as she laved paint over the surface of the wall.

            “Now the white,” She commanded, handing the brush back into his waiting hands.

            “Usually, da’len, you should do the light colors first, before the dark. It is a simple matter to paint over and correct mistakes of those, rather than ones of a darker hue.” He chided gently as he washed the brush in the basin of water. “Also, you are less likely to transfer one color to the other.” He handed the brush back up to her, covered in brilliant titanium white. “Luckily, I have had the time to study and become proficient in cleaning brushes between paints.” He smiled.

            “Did a spirit teach you that?” She laughed down at him.

            He grumbled. “Something like that.”

            “You will tell me everything, Solas.” Lavellan told him matter-of-factly as she contemplated where to press the brush. “I want to know. I _need_ to know. And even if I don’t, your daughter deserves to know her father.”

            Solas’ cheeks flushed and he was grateful she couldn’t see his face from where she sat. He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to spend hours telling her about his true self and his life and everything he had done for the People and how a thousand years later she had changed everything in him. “One day—” he began, but let out a startled yelp as he felt something cold press to the top of his head.

            “Sorry,” Ellana laughed. “I got a bit of paint on you. Help me down?”

            Solas let a slight grumble of disapproval pass through him as he reached up to grab her beneath her shoulders and lower her gently to the floor. She turned to him as soon as her feet hit the ground, biting her lip and smiling. “Sorry,” she said again as he reached to grab a cloth from the worktable they had made and wiped his head.

            “It’s alright,” He reassured. “Such things happen even to those of us who are adept.”       

            “Adept, is it?” She replied and he turned back to face her.

            “I do not mean to brag,” He said. “I simply meant that it happens to everyone, at all stages of learning.”

            “Oh. You mean like this?”

            He let out a soft gasp and jumped back as she expertly flicked the brush of white paint over the tip of his nose.

            “Ellana, what—” But she was doubled over in laughter, clutching her belly and shaking at the shoulders. He scowled, but was unable to keep a smile from his lips as he shook his head at her. A mischievous sensation rose in his chest, and he dipped his thumbs in the rust-red paint on the pallet and moved to catch her head to raise her eyes to him, leaving two streaks of paint along her cheeks. She shrieked in delight as she pulled away from his hands and held her brush before her like a weapon.

            He laughed at the challenge and rushed nimbly at her, ducking the brush and pressing his paint covered hands to the tips of her ear. “Emma shem’nan,” he called to her in elvish as he dragged his fingers down the length of her neck. She retaliated quickly, pressing the brush to the hollow of his throat and he hummed his pleasure. He released her and deftly dodged her next strike and leapt to the pallet to gather more paint, but as he did he felt her grab ahold of the base of his tunic and fold it over the top of his head. He quickly extracted his face from the mess of fabric and left his tunic dangling on his arms and arched his back as he felt her pressing the brush to his skin, painting swirls down his spine. Quickly, he wrenched the rest of the tunic off and dipped his hands into the paint again.

            She caught his wolfish smile seconds before he lifted up her shirt over the top of her belly and pressed his hands to her, leaving fingerprints all over her stomach. “Solas!” She cried, tears of laughter pooling in the corners of her eyes. “My shirt! You’ve stained it, Josephine will kill you now!”

            He laughed and pressed a kiss to her stomach that was as of yet unmarked by paint. “She will have to add it to the list of grievances against me,” he said as he stood and pulled Lavellan to him, pressing a kiss to her lips and holding her close. She leaned into him, returning the kiss, and sliding the drying paintbrush over the tips of his ears.

            “Hmmm,” She agreed as they parted. “But I think it would behoove you to use that magical Fade-talent of yours to get the paint off.”

            He chuckled and pressed his forehead against hers. “This particular paint shouldn’t require any magic at all,” he assured her. He ran his hands through her hair, leaving dark red streaks among the silvery white. “Come, I will draw a bath for you. We could not have you sitting in judgment looking like a wild woman in war paint.” He smiled as he took her hand and led her towards the marble tub that sat in the corner near the fireplace.

            “Josephine actually got me one,” Lavellan laughed as they approached. “It’s divine. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had Dorian show up at my door demanding to borrow it for a bubble bath. But something about it really does take all the tension of the day away.”

            Solas grinned, an image coming to his mind of her reclining in a steaming bath as snow fell outside and she read through one of her books. He hoped she had been given everything she deserved in the months he had been gone. _If you hadn’t left her you would know for sure,_ a voice in his mind scolded. _You should not have come in the first place._ The other half of him replied. _Now she will only be injured further when you leave again._ Solas pressed his thumbs to his temples and pushed both voices from him. _Just let me be here right now. Let me delight in the woman I love, in our unborn child. Let me lay in her embrace and dream of the day we would be wed, with her dressed in starlight and flowers in her hair. Let me rest._

            “Solas?” Lavellan had come up beside him and was resting her palm on his shoulder, sensing his distress. “Don’t torture yourself. Just be here with me, okay?” She asked gently. Her bright eyes were sad, and she continued: “It’s okay. I know. I- I know you’ll leave again. Once you see this through. Once you know we’re both safe…”

            It was hard to miss the tortured look that came over his features as she spoke. His heart thudded in his chest with such a fury he felt like a stake had been driven between his ribs. “Vhenan,” he began, broken. “I…” But his mouth betrayed him and twisted into a grimace and turned to a barely held back sob. Lavellan took him and pulled him close against her, embracing his head against her shoulder and running her fingers gently down his back.

            “Shh,” She soothed, but he could feel a tear press from her cheek to his. “I… I know you have your reasons. Just- please. Please tell me why this time.” She sniffed and brushed away a tear from her eye. “You promised,” she reminded him gently. “You promised me. If I know why I can—” Her chest shook and Solas found himself broken, empty beyond tears. “I c-can raise our daughter and I can be happy.” She finished.

            Solas raised his head from her shoulder and looked her briefly in the eye before smothering her mouth with a kiss. It was hard, wanting, aching- anything to fill the chasm inside him. “I don’t want to go,” he muttered between breaths, his hands tangled in her hair. She kissed him back hungrily, begging entrance with her tongue and he obliged. He moaned when she ran her tongue over his teeth and pushed against the roof of his mouth. She drew breath from him as he exhaled and he gladly passed his air to her.

            They stood like that for several minutes in front of the fireplace before finally Lavellan pulled back for air. “What am I doing?” She said with a sad smile. “I have you here now, I can’t waste tears here.”

            A thin chuckle escaped his lips. “No, that wouldn’t be like you at all.”

            She closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose. “Ah.” She said, exhaling. “If I remember correctly, you were about to draw up a bath for me.” Her cheeks were tear-stained, but flushed. “There’s quite the trial in the morning, I hear.”

            “Yes,” Solas replied half-heartedly. He quietly turned his gaze away from her and to the snow-covered balcony. Weaving his hands through the Fade he pulled and lifted the snow and piled it neatly into the bathtub. His heart skipped a beat as he felt her magical presence beside him, her arms moving in tandem with his to fill the tub with frozen water. _This is what it should be_ , he thought. _To have someone. To trust._ If only he deserved such happiness.

            Lavellan wasted no time in melting the collected snow and heating it to a comfortable, steaming warmth. She swirled her hand in the clear mountain water and sighed. “Will you join me?” She asked.

            As if he could say no. Solas knelt before her, placing his hands reverently on her belly. “Ma nuvenin, Ellana.” He whispered as he began to unlace her boots. She chuckled and worked to lift her top over her head. He let her maintain her balance against him as she stepped out barefoot onto the floor and he turned his attention to the lacing of her breeches as she fiddled with her breast band. At last she stood naked before him as he kneeled, her arms clutched modestly around her chest.

            Solas’ breath left him and elvish words tumbled from his mouth. “ _How I would worship you, my love,”_ he sighed. Ellana’s grin was brilliant and she basked in the sound of his deep voice, reeling in the rhythm of his words.

            “See?” She chuckled. “You need to teach me so I can respond in kind, emma’lath.”

            Solas stood slowly, trailing his hands in reverence over her skin, taking in every perfect detail of her form. He pressed kisses to her knees, her hips, her stomach, between her breasts and the hollow of her neck before coming to rest lightly on her lips. She sighed contentedly and began to untangle the binding of his trousers. He kept his hands pressed to her skin as he felt the garments sink around his ankles and carefully stepped out from the fabric. “ _Give me your blessing so I may cleanse you, my heart. Let me wash away the marks the world has left on your skin, let me hold you in my arms, clean and shining.”_ Ellana laughed under her breath.

            “I can’t understand all that you say, _hahren_.” She whispered. “But I think I like what you are suggesting.” She backed away from him towards the tub and held his hand for balance as she lifted one leg after another to step into the bath. She moaned in relief as she sank into the warm water.  She closed her eyes and held her breath as she dunked her head under then remerged with a grateful breath and contented hum.

            “You are so beautiful,” Solas spoke in a heavy whisper.

            “You aren’t bad yourself,” She replied with a smile, her eyes dragging over his form; his broad shoulders and chest and narrow hips, his muscled arms and thighs, and his talented hands. “Join me, vhenan.” She whispered. “I can tell you’re cold.”

            The other elf braced himself on the edge of the bath and lifted himself in with one graceful movement, sliding deftly behind her. He gathered her into his arms, pulling her flush against him and settling her between his thighs. He began to gently massage her scalp, every once in the while splashing water over her head. She moaned happily, relaxing against his chest. He pressed hot kisses to her neck as he began to work the paint from her skin, from her cheeks and ears. The red paint dripped like blood into the water, leaving her skin clean and luminescent. He continued to praise her beauty and wisdom in in elvish, and delighted in the way she rubbed herself against him as she reveled in the baritone of his voice.

            Once satisfied that her face and hair were clean, he moved his hands to her stomach, kneading her skin gently, tenderly, praising the elegance with which she carried their child. Lavellan made contented humming sounds as she swirled her hands through the warm water, savoring the push and pull of it on her skin and the press of her lover against her back. She leaned her head back on his shoulder and stared at the ceiling, his words rocking her like the waves of the sea.

            Once he seemed to have finished brushing the paint from her skin, she swirled around in the water to face him, kneeling between his legs. He shifted his hold on her to gently touch her shoulders and leaned to press his forehead against her. “What would you have of me?” He asked her in the common tongue, his eyes pressed closed.

            “Let me get you cleaned up, ma sa’lath.” she suggested softly, placing her wet hands on the tips of his ears and massaging gently where the white paint stained his skin. He leaned back against the edge of the bath and groaned happily. “ _I want to please you,”_ she said in her feeble elvish and felt the water vibrate from the deep chuckle in his chest. She soaked her hands in the water again, rinsing his ears as he lay back with his eyes closed. Lifting herself up on her knees, she leaned over him, placing both hands on his cheeks, and trailing her wet fingers along his jaw.

            “You are as a goddess of pleasure to me, my heart.” He spoke softly as he settled beneath her touch. “You don’t even need to try. Just the sound of you drawing breath brings peace in my heart.”

            She smiled brightly and felt herself flush. She was grateful his eyes were still closed. His chest was rising and falling softly; he was perfectly tranquil beneath her. Lavellan rubbed the paint she had splattered on the tip of his nose away, and brought a fist full of water to drip over his face to rinse it all away. He winced as the water made contact with his skin, and cracked one eye open to gaze at her. “Am I to your satisfaction?” He asked, not moving from where he lay.

            “Not quite,” Lavellan replied. “Your back,” she said, scooting away from him so he could sit up in the tub. “I should wash that, too.”

            “If that is what you wish, who am I to deny you?” He asked, smiling as he sat up and rotated himself so he was facing away from her. Lavellan giggled and crossed her legs beneath her, running her hands up the length of his spine. His back arched mildly against her touch, and she let her hands come to rest on his shoulders.

            “Here,” she said, beginning to rotate her thumbs against the firm muscles beneath the skin. A contented groan escaped his lips and he leaned into the touch. She worked her hands down his back, removing the mar of the paint and soothing tension in his muscles.

            “Why did we never do this before?” He asked through moans of pleasure as he felt his vertebrae shift back into place as every bit of him relaxed.

            Ellana hummed her agreement. Everything about this was ideal. The fire cackled merrily near by, the bath was still warm and steaming thanks to their magic, and she held the man she loved perfectly in her grasp as she massaged away the pain and stress he had been carrying. Finally, as she worked her thumbs up his neck to the base of his skull he turned back to face her and pulled her to him. He settled her in his lap, her left shoulder against his chest and her head resting on his right shoulder. He held her there, caressing her body beneath the water and pressing kisses to her wet hair. “Ar lath ma,” He crooned into her ear. “Come, vhenan, we should not stay wet so long in the winter.”

            She muttered her protest in a muffle against his chest. “But I’m so comfortable,” she pleaded.

            “We can be just as comfortable and warm in your bed, my heart.” He said as he gathered her into his arms and stood from the tub. She gasped in surprise and then again as the cold air hit her wet skin, but Solas quickly summoned a warm wind to rush around the two of them as he stepped carefully from the water and carried her to the large bed in the center of her chambers. As soon as he set her down, she retreated under the soft warmth of the covers, scooting to the side to make room for him to join her. He sat down next to her and swung his legs up to the bed and nestled into the downy blankets beside her.

            Lavellan lay on her side and gazed at him through heavy eyelids. She was flushed from the bath, and could see the warmth in him fading as he made himself comfortable. He swung one arm over her side, fingers delicately tracing the small of her back and caressing the flesh of her ass, sliding his hand down her thighs to her knees, and then back up again. She sighed in perfect happiness and opened her mouth before she realized the words were spilling out of her. “If only I could make love to you, right now.” Her eyes went wide and she flushed at the confession. “I mean—” she stuttered. “I just don’t know if I could, right now, with our child so heavy within me—” She sucked her lips into her mouth and bit down at the smile curling around his lips. She was bright red now, she was sure of it. Even though she had coupled with him before many times in many ways, everything about him returning made things brand new, and she was just as self-conscious and flushed as the first time she had invited him into her bed.

            Solas’ smile turned to a laugh as she stumbled over words and turned bright red. “If you will have me,” he began in a voice heavy with arousal. “I would make love to you until the sun rises over the peaks and draws us from our bed.”

            Lavellan responded with a whimper, feeling herself becoming wet with desire. “But, our daughter,” She began, but he pressed a finger to her lips to quiet her.

            “Not here, Ellana.” He whispered against her ear. “Come. Dream with me.”


	9. Nine

           Ellana opened her eyes to a rush of green, the feel of a soft breeze against her skin and the sound of a waterfall bubbling merrily in the distance. She breathed in through her nose and the smell of the forest rose to greet her, leaf and earth and flower. A light mist darted about by her feet, which were blessedly bare in the soft green grass. It was like being punched in the gut.

            “No,” She cried, and stumbled backwards, reeling. “No. No. I don’t want to be here. I want to be anywhere but here.”

            She pulled at the corners of the dream to try to send it all crashing down into nothingness, but it wouldn’t move. Something was holding it up, something stronger than her. Even as she channeled all of her power through the anchor on her hand, the dream only gave way lightly, like a pebble falling from a mountain after one tried to punch it down.

            “Fenedhis lasa.” She swirled around, looking for some escape from the verdant grotto. Her bare feet clamored over roots and stones, running, desperately trying to reach some other place. Her breathing was ragged and tears formed at the corner of her eyes as she tried to escape, but the path wouldn’t go any further, no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t reach the bough of the tree that leaned over the way to the rest of the forest. She stumbled to her knees and raked her hands in the dirt. “Let me out!” She roared angrily. She summoned her magic and started throwing flames at the greenery around her, but they melted away, ineffective. Furious, she began tearing up flowers and grass near where she sat, throwing them to the side.

            Suddenly there was a hand on her shoulder, calm and gentle. She flinched away as if she had been burned and clamored to her feet. “Dread Wolf take you!” She howled at Solas, who stood a few feet away, his hands raised in what was supposed to be a calming gesture. It only served to infuriate her more.

            “This is bullshit. What the hell are you doing to me? Why the fuck would you bring me here?” She clenched her fists at her side. “I want out.” She said as calmly as she could manage.

            “Vhenan—”

            “I WANT OUT!” She howled, doubling over with the fury she put into the shout. “You bastard. You—fuck you. How dare you trap me here? By what _right_ do you put me back in this place?”

            Solas took a cautionary step forward. “I did not intend to cause you pain, in fact the opposite—”

            “Let me out!” She sobbed as she weakly tried to push him away, banging her fists feebly against his chest. Solas slowly gathered her into his arms, not once fighting back or chiding her as she hurled insults at him. “I don’t want to be here,” she murmured into his tunic. “This is… why would you bring me here?” She demanded.

            Solas pressed a kiss to her forehead. “My heart,” he began softly. “I have made many mistakes in my life. I have let others suffer through my actions. I cannot undo the things I have done. I know it. I should pay the price.” He leaned his head down, resting his cheek against her silver hair. “I brought you here so I could do what I intended to do all along. To tell you the truth.”

            Ellana pushed away from him, hastily wiping tears from her cheeks. “Well let me tell you, it really killed the mood.” She said angrily. “Do you know how long I sat here? Waiting for you to turn around and come back? For you to tell me you fucked up and that I was everything you needed?”

            “I am sorry.”

            “I fell asleep, here, by the stream.” She continued.  “I woke up and thought ‘what a nightmare,’ only to see my reflection in the water and my vallaslin gone. I wanted to die.” She spat. “So yeah, I fucking hate this place. You didn’t even have the decency to tell me why.”

            If she had hurt him, Solas didn’t show it. He stood with the same stoic expression he always had. “A wrong I intend to remedy.” He said quietly. He held his hand out to her. “Please, vhenan.”

            Ellana eyed him cautiously, tears still stinging the corner of her eyes. She gingerly reached out to take his waiting hand, and the instant their skin touched he pulled her to him, crashing his lips against hers and holding her head firmly against him. She gasped in surprise and bit his lip as he pressed his tongue to her teeth. He let out a bark of pain, but it only seemed to encourage him, so she fought back against him, forcing his tongue back to his own mouth so she could claim dominance. He resisted, fisting his hand in her hair and clashing his teeth against hers, but each time his tongue darted forward she bit him. Finally he pulled back, breathing heavily, his lips bruised and his tongue bleeding. Lavellan stared at him warily and licked her lips and tasted his blood there. There was a predatory look about him- the calm mask he wore had fallen away to reveal something dangerous and desiring. She felt a twinge in the pit of her abdomen. In all the times she had been with him, had kissed him, he had let her take control. He was pliant and gentle, focusing on her and her needs and her pleasure.

            This was something new entirely. She could feel the heat rolling off of him, feel his arousal as he was pressed against her. “Solas?” She asked quietly, fighting the urge to kiss him again, to truly awaken this primal desire she had unearthed in her lover.

            “That is not my name.” He said in a low growl before his lips closed on hers again. This kiss was hard, forceful, and incredibly hungry. She moaned slightly as he pushed his tongue into her mouth and tasted her, and she tasted the iron tang of his blood. His hands were gripping her tightly, pawing at her through her clothing. She returned his aggression, her hand leaving angry red scratches at the base of his neck while the other reached down between them to take a hold of his erection through the cloth of his trousers. Solas made a surprised noise that sounded half pleased and half angry, and he pulled back to look at her.

            She glared at him. “What do you mean, that’s not your name?” She demanded, still holding him tightly, dragging her nails along the tent in his trousers.

            “I mean,” He said thickly, his voice dripping with primal desire. “That is what I chose to call myself when I awoke to this world, but it is not my true name.”

            She pushed him away and he stumbled back. “When you awoke? What do you—What are you?”

Solas said nothing, he simply held her in his gaze as her mind raced to piece together what he had just told her.

“You awoke to this world? Are— are you like Abelas and the other elves from the temple? Is this the truth then?” She asked, incredulous. “That you aren’t who you said you were, that you deceived us all, that you were lying to me the whole time?”

            The expression on his face softened. “No,” he said. “That is only a part of it.” He grimaced. “Am I frightening you?” He asked, suddenly worried. The beast that had taken ahold of him seemed to fade, and he looked at her with incredible worry.

            Ellana held her head high. “Afraid?” She asked. She shook her head. “I told you long ago that I didn’t fear you. I still don’t.”

            Solas gave a small chuckle. “No, I expect not.” He said. “I should have known better than to doubt you, my halla.”

            “Halla?” She asked, confused. “You’ve never called me—” Suddenly her mind flashed back to a far away dream where she had stood as a golden halla on the pains of Dirtharaven and clashed against a white wolf. _Ma emma harel._ Those were the words she had spoken. She had in that moment declared herself an equal to the beast. She felt a rush of excitement as she remembered the power she had felt upon waking, the strength and magic that had twined through her limbs, that had emboldened her to-

            “It was you.” She said. “You were the wolf.” She was bombarded with memories of that night, his gentle approach to her tent and her insistence that he stay- that she did not fear him and neither should he. The contrast of the warmth against the cold mountain air of Emprise du Lion, the warmth of his skin on hers, their shared breath. She shivered in spite of herself.

            He nodded slowly. “It was.”

            “So that was the wolf just now,” She said, realizing. “When you kissed me. That hunger…” She paused. “Is that the real you then? You left me to protect me from the wolf?”

            “It is only part of me,” He began slowly, picking his words carefully. “And only a part of why I had to leave. I…” He swallowed, collecting his thoughts. “There are wrongs I have left alone for too many years. These are my burdens to bear, not yours. I could never ask you to help me shoulder them. These wrongs are sins I must correct on my own.

            “I kept that part of myself hidden while I helped the Inquisition. And I never lied to you, except about my name. You are my heart, Ellana Lavellan, ma sa’lath. I have never, in all my life, loved a woman as I love you. And the world has not seen your like for thousands of years.”

            Ellana’s mind was racing, trying to comprehend what he was saying. “So, you’re one of them.” She decided. “One of the elves from the time of Arlathan. Like Abelas. But you don’t have the vallaslin,” She reasoned. “So, you were not a… a slave or a servant to the gods.”

            “That is true.” He replied, his hands crossing behind his back as he assumed his usual posture when he would lecture about true elvhen history.

            “Then all of those things you say you learned from the Fade,” Elllana questioned. “You actually lived through? You were there?” Her disbelief was mapped on her face, and she opened and closed her mouth, trying to parse together all of this information.

            “Not all of them,” Solas said, perfectly settled back into his calm self. “Much of what I know has come from the Fade and my friendship with spirits. But you are correct, I did indeed live to see the decline of Arlathan. In fact,” He said bitterly. “In trying to save it, I caused its collapse entirely.”

            Ellana blinked several times. She had all the pieces to the puzzle he was trying to tell her and still it was impossible. “You’re not,” She said, taking a step back. “Are you? No. No, that would mean…” She trailed off as all the pieces settled into place. “Fen’Harel.” She spoke the name quietly, as if not saying it loudly would keep it from being real.

            Solas said nothing, only kept his steely blue gaze on her as she looked at him questioningly.

            “Fen’Harel,” She said again tasting the name on her lips. “You- you’re Fen’Harel? Then I—” Her hands flew over her mouth.

            He smiled softly at her and took a gentle step forward. “That is not my true name either,” He said, holding his hand out for her to take. “But that is how I am, rather, I was, known to the People.”

            Ellana did not react to him approaching; instead she stayed frozen in place. “Then I—” She stuttered. “I was tricked. I was seduced by the Dread Wolf and now I’m carrying his child, oh Creators—” She cut herself off with a sharp breath and her hands flew to her middle, which was no longer swollen with the weight of her daughter. She stood lithe and thin as she had been months before. “Where is she?” She demanded, rounding on the other elf with a ferocity that startled him from his composure.

            “She is safe. She is dreaming.” He explained, holding his arms up in front of him. “Do not fear for her.”

            “Fear for her?” Ellana exclaimed. “You just told me she’s the daughter of- of a god- a traitorous god! What would you want from her?” Her cheeks were flushed with anger. “You tricked me into carrying your heir, is that it? Was that the truth you wanted to hide from me? Creators,” she swore. “I should have known.”

            “None of that is true,” Solas hissed through his teeth. “I adore you. I worship you, your mind, your spirit. I did not seduce you for my own reasons. You are the one who captured my heart, not the other way around. I should not have let you, should not have let myself be so completely taken by you because then I would never have to be here explaining it to you.” He pressed his hand to his forehead. “Forgive me. I have made it sound as though it was your doing. The fault is mine.”

            He straightened himself and took another step forward, reaching for her. “I am no god,” He said softly. “Not anymore than Corypheus was a god. I am elvhen, like you.”

            “Stay away from me,” She said quietly. Solas froze where he stood. “I loved you, I trusted you, but you— you’re the nightmare we warn our children about, the one who leads elves astray, the traitor.

            “Do you still truly believe everything the Dalish taught you?” He asked softly. “Ellana, look at me. You know the truth about me. But that does not change who I truly am. You know my heart and my mind better than anyone alive on this earth. Do you truly think I am a monster who gobbles up stray children and cackles madly in the darkness?”

            She didn’t say anything.

            “Our People have lost the truth of who they were. The majesty of Arlathan is reduced to songs and tales, and our tongue is spoken by children who have never heard it before. Dalish legend is not true history, ma vhenan.”

            Ellana stayed still as he approached. He could have reached out and touched her, but he paused, waiting for something from her. She was shaking, he realized. “Ar lath ma,” He reassured her. “Please. This is the truth I have to offer you. You have my heart, and my child. You may do with me as you will.”

            The corners of her mouth turned up just slightly, and Ellana let slip a breath she had been holding. Suddenly the woman before him was laughing. “Of course, why not?” Her voice rang out like a bell. “Varric will love this. Weird Shit Volume III: The Herald of Andraste is pregnant with the Dread Wolf’s pup.

            “I shouldn’t be surprised by anything anymore,” She continued, her laughter dying on her lips. She turned to him and reached out to cup his cheek in her hands. “I believe you.” She said. “I don’t know how much of what I was taught is true or false. But I like to think that I know your heart. If you are truly Fen’Harel, we will need to change the tales so you are much fluffier.” She chuckled and it pulled a smile from his lips.

            “I am no tame pup,” He countered.

“Oh no, of course not.” She grinned. “You did best all the other gods. You must have some power. I suppose you’ll tell me again that the elvhen gods were not gods at all, and they were corrupt and petty so you had to lock them away. Well, not all of them. Apparently Mythal was murdered by someone not you, and is currently walking around as a human woman who happens to be Asha’Bellanar.”

            He winced under her touch. “In the simplest way possible, yes.” He replied shakily. “But there is still more.” He heaved a sigh and raised his hand to clasp hers. “I promised you the truth, and I swear you will have it.”

            “Well, there’s not much more that can surprise me anymore.” She said, resigned. “I guess this is what I get for wanting the truth.”

            Solas chuckled. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

            “Alright. Hit me.”

            He took a deep breath. “The orb Corypheus carried,” he began slowly. “It was mine.” Ellana eyed him suspiciously but did not speak. “I may not be a god,” He continued, “But I did have great power among the elvhen, and was respected as such.” He said bitterly. “The orb is – was— my focus. With it, I could store and channel great power. Enough to lock away Elgar’nan and the rest of my kin.” He took a breath, pulling her hand down to rest against his chest. “Once I did, I left Arlathan and slept. I had locked away the gods of the People and couldn’t live among them. So I dreamt. I dreamt for many years before awakening to this world and seeing everything I had wrought was in vain. The People I tried to save were scattered, mortal. Those who claimed to know our history were little more than children, grasping at legend in a futile attempt to be what they once were.”

            The story was pouring out of him like water from a jug. He could not stop the words that formed in his throat, and he didn’t mind. He was laying himself out, naked and raw, before the woman he loved and he wasn’t afraid.

            “That is the truth of who I am. I am the one who let Arlathan fall. I am the reason our People were enslaved and broken. I am the one who was foolish enough to think I could best Corypheus when I was too weak even to unlock the orb’s power. Thousands have died because of me. And now I must correct my mistakes. I stayed with the Inquisition to see to Corypheus’ fall, and now I must pay for the loss of our culture and our history. The price is heavy, and I could never wish it upon you. That is the truth of why I left. I must atone, and you do not deserve such a punishment.”

            Ellana scowled at him. “Did you forget the conversation we had two nights ago? I distinctly remember telling you that that is not your call to make. If you want to change the world, why shouldn’t I help you? Gods, I’m the best person to help you. I am a pro at this weird shit and bringing peace and justice to the world.” She pressed closer to the other elf and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. He circled his arms around her. “We can do it together.”

            Solas was silent for a moment and just stood where he was, holding on to her. “No, vhenan. We cannot.”

            “Just you try and stop me.”

            He chuckled joylessly. “That is the indomitable spirit I adore.” He sighed. “I brought you here to tell you the truth, and also so the memory of this place wouldn’t hurt you anymore. I suppose I failed at that.”

            Ellana broke away from their embrace to look him in the eye. “It doesn’t sting like it did,” She confessed. “Although you’ve made it pretty clear this is the place you’re going to bring me when you’re about to leave me.”

            “I can’t leave it at that,” He scowled. “This place is important to me- I want you to be able to come here in peace.”

            She heaved a sigh. “You know I will not let you go easily, Dread Wolf.”

            He smirked at the name.

            “If you want me to be at peace here, then make me be at peace.”

            “I do not understand.”

            She tilted his head down to hers and kissed him gently on the forehead. “Well, I’m still waiting on you to make good of what you promised me before we fell asleep.”

            “Ah,” He said, a flush creeping onto his features. “I shall endeavor to see it through.”


End file.
